


Love in the afternoon

by Ethel_BH



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types
Genre: Billy Widler did, Can't say it was for the better, I didn't actually write the plot, I just changed it a little, Love in the afternoon AU, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-27
Updated: 2018-04-27
Packaged: 2019-04-28 10:01:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 23,605
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14446875
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ethel_BH/pseuds/Ethel_BH
Summary: "This is the city – Paris, France. It’s just like any other big city -London, New York, Tokyo – except for two little things. In Paris, people eat better. And in Paris, people make love -well, perhaps not better, but certainly more often." In which Alphonse is very perceptive, Winry very supportive, Roy very charming and Ed is playing a dangerous game.





	Love in the afternoon

**Author's Note:**

> I have a lot of things to say so I'll try to be quick. 
> 
> First of all, this is a free adaptation from a movie called Love in the afternoon, which is an amazing movie by the way, so I didn't write the plot, simply arranged it a little.
> 
> Second of all, and maybe you've already noticed, English isn't my first language. I've actually a really split opinion on people writing in a language they don't fully master, because while it's really annoying not to be able to read something because it's in russian, it's just as annoying to read a story with so many mistakes it becomes inpenetrable. I chose to write in english and not in my mother tongue for multiple reasons. The movie on which I based this fanfiction is an american movie, and therefore in english, so it seemed logical to keep it that way, especially considering that I wanted to include quotes from the movie. Although it would also have made sense to write it in french (which is my mother tongue) since it takes place in Paris. But I didn't. The main reason is that although I've watched the animé in japanese and read the manga in french, my vision of the characters is also greatly influenced by all the fanfictions I've read about them, and at this point, the only language I can imagine them speaking is english. Because that's what I've seen them speaking the most, and I picked up their style and way of talking in english, I think. On a side note, I also find myself unable to write anything in french that doesn't immediately sound utterly ridiculous. I suppose english speakers will also find what I wrote in their language absolutely ridiculous but at least I can stand it. I don't know if french easily appears poor when you're not a genius writter or if I just don't speak english well enough yet to feel the same way about my poor writing skills but anyway, that was part of the decision. 
> 
> I don't actually expect you to be interested in all my rambling but I felt that I had to explain myself.
> 
> So this leads us to my last point : feel free to point out any grammatical mistake or even phrasings that feel unatural. I really wants this to be the least unpleasant experience it can be, so I'll try to correct it as much as needed. If you have any remark concerning the plot or the way I portrayed everyone or whatever, feel free to tell me, as long as it's constructive and respectful. 
> 
> Thank you if you've read everything and thank you even more if you decided to keep reading anyway.

This is the city – Paris, France. It’s just like any other big city -London, New York, Tokyo – except for two little things. In Paris, people eat better. And in Paris, people make love -well, perhaps not better, but certainly more often. They do it any time, any place. On the left bank, on the right bank, and in between ! They do it by day, and they do it by night. The butcher, the baker, and the friendly undertaker. They do it in motion, they do it sitting absolutely still. Poodles do it. Tourists do it. Generals do it. Once in a while, even existentialists do it. There is young love, and old love. Married love, and illicit love. That is where I come in.

My name is Alphonse Elric. I am what you would call a private eye.

It means, among other things, that I help people finding out whether they're are being cheated on or not. It's a job like another, with long nights, an awful lot of work and dedication, but it's pretty worth it. I get to travel a lot, for one, and to make customers pay for it, which is awesome. It makes enough money to live comfortably in Paris, I guess.

Oh I don't live all by myself. It is depressing enough to spend nights waiting on top of a tower in hope to take photograph of a man through his window at an impossible distance without having to spend the nights alone at home too. No. I live with my brother Edward, and our sister (who really isn't but that's what it feels like) Winry.

Ed is a professional musician. He plays the cello and he's so good at it it sometimes makes me want to cry. He also studies, in his free time, because he's way too smart for everyone's own good. That means he gets bored if he doesn't do anything intellectually or physically (or both) challenging, and if he gets bored, god help us all. He teaches the cello at the academy in addition with the concerts, and studies to get his PhD in chemistry and physics at the university. It's barely enough to keep him busy.

Winry is a mechanic and a doctor. She builds artificial limbs called automail to replace lost limbs. She's constantly arguing with Ed and at the same time I'm not sure they could live without each other. See, Ed almost lost his arm, years ago, and he was crushed at the perspective of never being able to play the cello again. But Winry didn’t give up. She treated him. She guided him through rehabilitation. His arm is reinforced by metal parts, internal and externals, and getting his arm to be as precise as before was a real challenge but she’s awesome.

I think Ed is trying to become the best cellist ever, just to show her how grateful he is. He can be so refreshingly naïve about equivalent exchange and so delightfully literal about scientific laws, like the law of conservation of matter. I find it equally fascinating, admirable and annoying.

Most of the time, life is just the three of us in our apartment. It’s great.

But not today. This time, I spent the night on top of the colonne Vendôme, in front of the Ritz, spying on one of my best source of income. His name is Roy Mustang. His file is so big I'm on the verge on putting it in a specific drawer to make space for my other M-files.

I'm pretty familiar with his Parisian routine. It's always suite 14. The four gypsies always arrive at seven p.m. The veiled lady enters the suite almost right after them. And the music begins. I could go on and on. I know it by heart. I only needed to take photographs, for evidences. And let me tell you, at this angle and with the distance, it was a real struggle.

As I open the door to our appartment, I'm greeted by a very short and repeatedly played portion of Haydn's 88th symphony. It's for the orchestra then. Ed probably doesn't even hear me, because he's so focused. His capacity of focus is as astounding as the easiness with which he loses it as soon as food is involved.

I stop at his door to watch him play. His brow is furrowed, which means he's not satisfied by the way it's turning out. His left hand flies on the fingerboard, sometimes quick and precise, sometimes slow and graceful. And his right hand. No description can do it any justice, Winry's work is a piece of art. His skin is intricately linked with metal parts, supporting it, completing it. It’s steel and yet it looks so fluid and flexible. His movements are so precise and subtle it’s a wonder how he has any conscious control over it.

It's magnificent. Whatever he plays, watching him is always fascinating. Just add to the top that he's overflowing with talent.

Suddenly, the music stops. I hadn't even seen Ed was watching me. He smiles, a mixture of genuine delight to see me, and mockery.

"Don't you have work to do ?" He asks before making a face. "I know I do." He pauses. "I could move on to my PhD thesis, if I'm too distracting for you." I know he's not really joking. If he was too distracting, he would probably practice elsewhere, at the conservatory if not on the street in order to allow me to work properly. I smile at him.  
"Just some photographs to develop. The file is done, I'm just waiting for Mister X to show up." His eyes light up with amusement.  
"I can't even tell why you keep on calling them stupid names when you know I'm going through your files regularly when I'm bored." The real wonder is how I could not know he's doing it when I always find them out of place. Half of my work consists in perpetually putting my files back into place.  
"It's for principle. I don't reveal personal information on my customers. And you shouldn't read my files..." This, too, is for the principle. Like it's going to change anything. He shrugs.  
"Yeah whatever. Don't you have photographs to develop ?" The thing with Ed is that he regularly gives me criminal urges, which are weighed against my unreserved love and admiration for him.

I escape the room, closing quietly the door behind me after giving a last look at Ed, who is back to Haydn. The sound fills the all appartment, contributing to the homely feeling it gives out. I cross the living room to open a small door just next to the kitchen's door and enter the room. Switching on the red lights, I carefully check the possible light input before getting to work.

I really like spending time in the darkroom. So much that I just don't see time flying. Not only do I manage to develop the photographs I took during the night, but I carry on with some old films I found in the drawer, hidden under one of Ed's old sheet music. I recall him looking for it for a week before giving up and going with memory.

At some point, I faintly hear my name being called, but I'm buried in the contemplation of Winry's, Ed's and mine faces appearing on the paper. It was a long time ago. Ed’s right arm was still normal.

A knock on the door. I hum faintly to allow whoever is knocking to enter. I have the suspicion that it must be Winry though, since Ed would probably invite himself in, photographs in developing or not.

The door opens. It is Winry. She almost blows my ears off with her greetings.  
"Hi Al ! Watcha doing ? Ed told me 'twas only a coupe of photos, but it seems like you've been here for hours !" She seems cheerful, which isn’t unusual but welcome nonetheless. Makes me feel at home. Not bothering to turn to her, I answer, simply stepping aside a little so she can see the photograph as well.

"I actually found some old films so I'm developing these as well. Look at how young we were !" She looks around my shoulder and I can feel her happy grin turn into a smirk. I know what she’s going to say.  
"Damn. So much growing up has been going on..." Her grins grows a little wider as she adds, "Well except on Ed's part obviously." Am I surprised ? Not really. Ed's growl, behind our backs, however, does surprise me.  
"I can hear you." Not impressed, Winry giggles. She then reaches for a point somewhere on my left and her hand comes back with Ed's sheet music. She turns to him, almost unconsciously, her gaze still focused on the piece of paper, her brow scrunched for a brief moment as she asks :  
"Isn't that the sheet music you lost like years ago and you spend a week searching for although you already knew the piece by heart ?" Ed's head appears on her shoulder.  
"Lemme look." He takes it in his hand, tilts his head adorably and nods. "Yeah it is. Were the heck did you find this ??!" he asks incredulously. I'm about to answer when Winry cuts in.  
"My my, who's this guy ? He sure is handsome... Are you stalking him Al ?" I don't know how she gets any work done with that ridiculous attention span of hers.  
I sigh. "No I'm not Win, it's for a customer. His wife is cheating on him with this man..." She nods in understanding before whispering, "So you are stalking him !" and let a knowing smile form on her lips as she nudges Ed.  
"Well I don't know what your chap looks like but the temptation sure is greeeaat." I roll my eyes even though neither of them can see me before turning to them, putting one of my numerous and ever useful reprimanding faces.  
"Winry, please. Don't tell me you can excuse cheating with anything. Let alone looks. I wouldn't believe you." Not even bothering to defend herself, she casts Ed one of those stupid looks that asks for best-friend complicity. But Ed's already complying before he even sees it, a glim in the eyes.  
"She's got a point though. I mean, look at that man." He whistle to support his point and wink at Winry.

Jeez. They're gonna get on their usual conversations about looks which are as boring and noisy as you can imagine. I'm saved by the door bell. I interrupt them without a second thought.

"Guys. You shut up. I don't want you making noise when I'm with customers." They roll their eyes.  
"Yes mum."  
"I'm sorry dad, shall I go in my room and do my homework ?"  
"Yes, you shall."

They disappear in Ed's room, chuckling quietly. Great. If they're both in the same room, they're probably going to do something stupid. Like checking out my customer to compare him to Mustang and then making a list of all the reasons his wife is right for cheating on him. Although cheating is without a doubt against their very nature and inexcusable in any case.  
___________________________

An ear glued to the door, I listened to Al's and Mr. X's exchange of politeness, patientely waiting for them to get to the point. Ah. Here it is.

 _“Please, monsieur, is the news good or bad ?”_ Mr. X asks, which is a fairly relevant question to be asking.  
_“That depends. Is this your wife ?”_ I suppose Alphonse is entitled do be neutral but I rather think he takes way too much pleasure in being so neutral he becomes immune to human emotions. Then again, outside work, Al is the most compassionate living being on earth, especially with animals. Too bad the guy isn’t a puppy.  
_“It looks like her.”_ Pleeease. As if Al could have been following the wrong woman. Give him a little credit.  
_“Then I regret to inform you that it looks bad.”_  
_“Then there IS another man !”_  
_“There is. And I regret to say that he looks good.”_ Al is probably the sole human being able to say I regret to say while being at the same time genuinely sorry AND somehow still amused that he has to say it.

Winry is giggling stupidly and it makes her move really uncomfortably on my shoulders. At least she's giving me the commentary to go with what I'm hearing. To be honest, the sound alone makes me wonder about the face that man is doing.

"I shouldn't make fun of him but the look on his face is so perfectly ridiculous, and added with noises he's making, my body is beyond the point where I can control it." This kind of comments always make me wonder about the chances I had to find a best-friend so perfectly and stupidly adorable. Just look at her being stupid. How can anybody resist her ? It's beyond me.  
"Al's not going easy on him. Do you think this job has turned him into a cynic ? I hope not."  
"Naaah ! I believe it is what he calls 'professionalism' or something like that. You know, being impartial and that kind of things."

After a brief discussion during which Al is absolutely neutral and therefore insufferable and the man so miserable I almost want to buy him an ice cream, he leaves. Al has given him all the details. Poor man. He knows exactly how and at precisely what hours his wife is being seduced all nights by another man. Must be tough.

But it was about time. Orchestra practice is in a few minutes and I've got to go. Winry is still giggling on the floor, already writing in her head the list of all the things that make this man the funniest man ever. She's probably going to draw a series of portrait to go with the description.

Whatever. I'm telling her when she can pick me up (because Al believe the city is too dangerous at night and, I quote, I "shouldn't be given opportunities to beat peoples up" because I "do it enough as it is without needing a reason to"). He isn’t exactly wrong but I don’t think Winry is anymore reserved than I am.

Anyway. I grab my cello, shout a goodbye to Al and Winry and climb down the stairs at full speed. Which is, in fact, not that fast, because those damn stairs are slippery and I stopped to count the times I've fallen down these because my shoes weren't adapted to this kind of floor.

Usually it would annoy me but I find myself strangely grateful for it when I suddenly run into Mr Funny himself (or Mr X, as Al would call him, hilariously so). We tumble down the remaining stairs during some very long and painful seconds before it stops suddenly.

See ? Splippery stairs.

As I struggle to get up, I feel something I’m not sure I like pressing against my ribcage. I don’t want to jump to conclusion or anything like that but it does feel like a gun, and I’m pretty sure it isn’t a good sign. I mean. The guy just learned his wife was cheating on him. And more urgently, I have no way whatsoever to be sure this guy knows what he’s doing and isn’t going to pull the trigger by mistake. Just my luck.

If I wasn’t running so late I probably would have took him to the police station. Sadly, I know they aren’t going to arrest him if he hasn’t actually done anything, so no need to waste my time.

I carefully put my right hand between the barrel and my ribcage, internally wincing at the prospect of damaging it, and slowly get up. Unfortunately, the process seems to wake up the guy from his lethargy because as soon as my body isn’t on his anymore, he’s standing and jolting toward the door. Fuck. I’m late.

I speed up to orchestra practice, come in late and practically pierce someone's eyes with my bow as I messily make my way to sit in the front row. I hurrily search through my sheets music to find the one the other are currently working on and once I find it, join in as soon as I can.

The word "join" might be a little exagerated, seeing as my mind starts drifting away at an alarming speed. It's supposed to be with the orchestra but I can’t stop thinking about the earlier incident.

I can’t let a man kill another without acting. For all I know, he could not only kill the guy, but also his wife. I have to do something or Al will read about it in the newspaper and never forgive himself. I may think the guy kind of had it coming, I can’t let Al bear the burden of someone’s death.

Who am I kidding. I don’t think I could live knowing I let someone die when I could stop it, no matter how much of an asshole the person was.

When finally, finally there is a pause, I rush to the public phone to call the police. I know what they’re going to say but there’s no harm in trying. And at least I’m not doing nothing.

It isn't long before I hear a voice.

 _“19th arrondissement’s police station, officer Prevost speaking. I’m listening.”_ That's a start.  
“I’m calling to inform you of a crime about to be committed.”  
_“You mean something that hasn’t happened yet ? I’m afraid there’s nothing we can do about it in this case, I’m sorry sir.”_ Here you go. I knew it. Trying to keep my calm, I attempt to convince him.  
“Can’t you prevent it from happening ? I mean, if you know for sure it’s going to happen, why don’t you do anything about it ?” It's simple logic. It's reasonnable.  
_“Well we sure don’t have enough manpower to do so, there wouldn’t be any crime otherwise...”_ Are they stupid or what ? I'm not saying they should waste their forces looking for crimes, but if they know it's going to happen, can't they do anything ?  
“But you don’t need all the fucking police force to stop one man from killing his wife’s lover in his stupid Ritz’ suite ! Just send somebody up there already and be done with it !” Unphased, the police officer uses a reasonnable voice to try and calm me down.  
_“Monsieur, there are 7, 000 hotels in Paris, 220, 000 hotel rooms, and on a night like this, I’d say in about... 40,000 of these rooms, a similar situation... Now really, Monsieur, if we were to assign a policeman to every one of these situations... No, Monsieur, it just staggers the imagination. It would take more than the entire Paris police force ! It would take the fire department, the sanitation department... and possibly the Boy Scouts. Certainly, we don’t want young boys in short pants... involved in situations like this.”_  
“...” As you can see, I'm speechless. How he managed to bring the boy scouts into this situation is beyond me. I just don't get people.

I hang up before I loose my calm and start insulting him. Not that he doesn’t deserve it, really. I almost manage to tell myself that I've done enough, that I tried but my inner Al has allied with my conscience to yell at me.

Fortunately, the rehearsal is almost over. If I hurry up and Win isn’t late picking me up, she should be able to drop me at the Ritz in time for me to do something. Come to think about it, it would be best if she was the one to go, but I have no time to waste explaining the situation to her. I’ll have to do.

As soon as we’re done with Haydn, I grab my cello and run for the exit.

Don’t tell her I thought that but Winry is a blessing. She’s already waiting for me next to our car.

I waste no time putting my cello on the back seats and jumping in the front. I can tell she is disturbed by my behaviour but I interrupt her before she has anytime to ask.

“Can you drop me to the Ritz, Win ? I promise I’ll explain everything to you but this is a matter of life and death and I don’t have the time right now, we have to hurry up !” She frowns, sets her jaw, but at the same time, she has already started the car.  
“You better have a very good explanation because I won’t settle for less than perfection.”  
“You got it. You’re the best.”

I love her. She’s driving like crazy even though she had absolutely no explanation, and I already sees the Ritz. She’d barely stopped when I hop out of the car and make a run for the entrance. I take the utility elevator and skim through the corridors.

There it is. Suite 14. Mr X is already pacing in front of it, probably waiting for the gypsies to come out. Some people enter with food. I try to prevent my mouth from watering but there’s no point. Food is my one true love.

I hear the music. Al called it Fascination . It’s the last one. I have to hurry up. Ignoring all my incoming thoughts about the quality of the piece and the interpretation, I scan my surroundings.

Here it is. The key is still on the door of the next suite. Doing my best to stay silent, I creep up into the room. I hear someone using the bathroom. Probably not going to come out anytime soon if the water running is anything to go by. I aim directly for the window. I know lover-boy in the next suite leaves his own window open because Al took the photographs through this very window.

Everything is fine until the woman’s stupid dog starts barking at me. I don’t see why Al loves puppies and kitten so much. They’re evil. Just look at this. What have I ever done to this dog ?? Nothing. And here he is, barking at me like his life depend on it. Will you just shut the fuck up already ? The words don’t come out of my mouth but the temptation sure is great.

I take my leave through the window and quickly make my way to the next one. All things considered, it’s better Winry didn’t do it instead of me, she’s afraid of heights and the trip from one window to another would have killed her.

I can hear Fascination is coming to an end. Dominant chord. It’s going to be a tonic chord then, to achieve the authentic cadence. And I won’t have time to stop things.

I’m in the room. My vision narrows on the musicians. I gesture for them to carry on. No tonic chord. The aborted authentic cadence turns into a semi-cadence. Now that I’ve gained some time, I can check my surroundings.

They’re dancing. And apparently, they haven’t heard me. Well. I walk to them and wrench the guy’s shoulder to turn him toward me.

Shit.

He’s hot.

The photographs didn’t prepare me for this. He lays his stunning dark eyes on me and his lazy smile turn into a seducing smirk. I can’t believe what I’m seeing. Suddenly, I want to punch him in his beautifully stupid face. How dare he flirts with me with a woman in his arms ? How dare he interferes into established relationships ?

__________________________________

The unexpected but staggeringly entrancing guest looks like he wants to punch me in the face. It’s rare enough to be noticed. He also looks like he’s in a hurry, which would explain why he didn’t wait for the lovely lady and I to be finished and why he didn’t knock. Although I’m not entirely sure he came by the door.

Actually, I’m pretty sure he didn’t, because I was facing the door and I didn’t see him.  
The incredible molten gold shade of his eyes has me locked on his gaze. Which seems mostly furious. However, I am not one to be unsettled by so little. A smile firmly in place on my face, I greet the newcomer as if everything was normal, which, for the record, isn’t.

“To what do I owe the pleasure of your lovely presence in my humble suite ?” I don’t think I’ve ever seen this particular sentence having quite that effect on someone before. It’s almost as terrifying as it’s endearing. And by that I mean that beautiful stranger is now red from head to toes and looks determined to kill me. I’m pretty sure I could make his ears fume with anger and embarrassment if I added one more word. Let’s not try this.  
“I’m saving your sorry ass, so shut up before I change my mind and kill you instead.” Well, if he’s really here to save me, that would rather be counterproductive. I open my mouth to tell him just that but he doesn’t quite leave me time to speak as he carries on. However, his attention is no longer on me, which is a shame, but on the lovely lady who has been my company for the last few nights.  
“Your husband is at the door, with a gun. If I were you I’d give me that dress and exchange it for the clothes I’m wearing right now. That or you ruin your marriage and get a man killed on the same night. Your move.” She’s incredibly calm for someone who just learned that their husband is at the door to kill their lover. I find myself to be incredibly calm as well for someone who just learned that a man is at the door to kill them.  
“Oh my. Thank you young man. Shall we move to the bathroom to proceed at the exchange ?”

After a last murdering look at me, beautiful stranger nods and follows her to the bathroom. Well. What an unexpected turn this evening just took. They take little time with their business, and soon enough, the lady, in pants you could believe to be her own if not for the fact that they are a little wide, and in an oversized shirt, steps out of the bathroom. She waves at me before going for the window. I rush to help her, making sure that she can reach the small edge on the wall between my window and the next.  
Thankfully, it’s still open. As soon as she’s out I turn over.

God. I was not prepared. Not at all. It’s a relief that my default setting is flirty or I wouldn’t have known what to do with myself.

I get pass the scowl to get a better look at the beautiful creature standing before my eyes. He’s done his hair in tight braid that is hanging on his shoulder. It reveals his neck in a way that is so exquisite I might jump on him right now. Not to mention the veil is still in his hands, which means I can see his face, that my earlier companion deemed appropriate to make up a little. His cheeks are slightly dusted with pink, and his mouth is covered in a dark red lipstick. His gorgeous golden eyes are highlighted by some black eyeliner and I can’t seem to take mines away from them. The dress is a little tight, complimenting his narrow waist and making his muscular shoulder and legs pop out in an endearing way. Although there is something strange with his right arm that I can’t quite pinpoint. The thin long gloves he’s wearing with the dress are obstructing the sight, but there’s definitely something strange with it.

Well. No time to waste. I take his left hand and smoothly make him sit down on the couch, my arm now folded around his waist. What a delight. He feels so vulnerable dressed like that and yet so strong. It’s turning me on like nothing else ever did. What an interesting night indeed.

The gypsies are done with the music. They leave. Just like me, beautiful stranger prick up his ears. The silence doesn’t last long. I hear the door being banged open. On an impulse, I pull the man next to me further into my arms and close my mouth over his.

He’s absolutely delightful. I can feel his surprise, but it isn’t long before he gives in. Slowly, I let my tong run along his lips, and part them slightly to slip inside his mouth. It finds his and caresses it tentatively at first, and then hungrily. The lipstick has a faint taste but it reminds me of the way he looked in it and it’s all the more arousing.

I almost forget the other man in the room, although he’s here to kill me. Of course he doesn’t forget about me and start yelling instead.

“It’s over now ! I hope you had fun ! I’m going to kill you !” Slowly, careful not to trigger him anymore, I lift my head. Jeez. I hadn’t had a gun pointed at me in a long time and it’s definitely not something I missed. Next to me, beautiful stranger does his best to be forgotten, which probably isn’t going to work, since the man is so sure that he’s his wife.  
“Would you be so kind as to introduce yourself, please ?” I hope he isn’t going to take that as a way to belittle him. It really isn’t. That’s just how I talk. Fuming with anger and something like triumph, he yells.  
“I’m the idiot husband !” Does he want me to insult him ? Because if that's not an invitation, I don't know what to call it. My survival instinct tells me not to take it.  
“Whom idiot husband ?” Ouch. I can't help myself. I live on the edge.  
“Her’s !” He’s pointing at my stranger. He’s in for a surprise. Feigning it myself, I ask with my most innocent voice, echoed by beautiful stranger not even a second later :  
“Hers’ ?”  
“My idiotic husband ? What do you mean ?” He pitched his voice a little. It is still a bit deep for a woman’s but it’s plausible enough. Anyway, my murderer looks startled.  
“Aren’t you... ?” He raises a tentative hand to lift the veil off my stranger’s face.  
“I’m confused. I thought... I thought you were my wife but you’re obviously not. In fact you don’t even look like her. How did this happen ? How did I make such a mistake ?!” Beautiful stranger face is painting surprise and amusement. However, given the way his hand is clawing at my own, I’d say he’s pretty tense. I decide to take the matter into my own hands. I lift myself up the couch and take the man by the arm to guide him to the door.  
“Well, I’m relieved to learn that this isn’t your wife, I would have been in a very embarrassing situation otherwise.” Euphemism is my middle name.  
“Very embarrassing indeed, I was ready to kill you ! But this sure isn’t my wife, she’s much more beautiful ! You’d like her !”  
“I’m sure I would.” You bet I like her. But she isn’t nearly as intriguing as the man sitting on my couch and intriguing is my favourite.  
“I’d like to introduce you to her, one day. You’d be very pleased.” For a man who was afraid his wife might cheat on him, he sure is eager to introduce her to a stranger he knows for a fact is a seducer. Well. If he wants to, who am I to stop him ?  
“Of course, of course. This way please.” I push him through the door. “Have a good night.”  
I don’t even have the time to turn back to my mysterious saviour completely before the man is in again, holding that stupid card I always hang at my door knob that says “Ne pas déranger”. For all the good it does. Maybe I should hang one at the window too.  
I kick him out a second time, and finally turn to my stranger. Looks much calmer than he was before. Maybe I’ll get something out of this night.

_________________________

Well. Mission accomplished. I can go home now. My head is much clearer now that Roy fucking Mustang isn’t all over my face or my waist like a minute ago. He’s approaching again though. Better get going before this gets out of hands. He reaches for my arm. I tense. He takes the left one. I let myself breathe again.

“So. How did you know ?” Straight to business, I see. I huff. Like I’m gonna tell you. Just look at you with your handsome face and your handsome hands and your handsome everything, you think you deserve all this attention you get from people. Well fuck you. I’m not a toy and I’m not playing your game Mustang. I try to answer in the most detached voice I can manage. Damn him. He is a looker.  
“I have my ways. Not that it’s any of your concern. You should be careful you know, I’m not going to be here every fucking time to save your ass. And as far as I know, this is bound to happen again.” He lifts a quizzical eyebrow. Yeah some people express themselves with their eyebrows. And the worst is that it works wonder. Don't ask me how. I don't know either.  
“I thought it was a rather exceptional situation... Wasn’t it ?” I snort.  
“Of course not, what do you think ?” The cop from earlier comes to my mind and I smirk despite myself. “There are 220, 000 hotel rooms in Paris, and on a night like this, I’d say in about 40,000 of these rooms, a similar situation. With your way of living, I’m surprised it hadn’t happened to you yet. I suppose there is a first time for everything.” No he’s staring. His smile is tentative. Looks like he’s testing the field.  
“Did you just make up the figures ?” Now this is insulting. I'm an Elric. I'm nothing but scientifically accurate. Which, Al would argue, is paradoxically both at one and in complete contrast with the way I play the cello.  
“I wish I had but unfortunately, no. Is it a habit of yours, Mustang ? I’m not really surprised. With all this stuff you do, import, export, you must have to provide the people who follow you with some bullshit from time to time, don’t you ?” It doesn’t even phase him a bit.  
“Actually, the trick is more to present the figures in a certain way than to invent them." He stops for a second before fucking winking. "Not that I can’t do both.” There’s a glim in his eyes that says is on board to play. He gets it. He knows I’m not going to give him any answers but he figures he can get some with casual banter. I wouldn’t mind, but I really don’t want to be caught up in this. I’d better go home.

However, I can’t manage to get the words out before the whole evening, which apparently wasn’t fucked up enough already, gets even worse.

The door opens again and some things happen. The man from before, who apparently can’t let go, enters the room for the third time already, ready to be painfully annoying and blissfully ignorant again. At the same time, Mustang gathers his fucking mind and figures we’d better give the illusion that he’s interrupting something and push me on the couch, keeping me pined down with his hands on my wrists and his tight between my legs and kissing me senseless again. Or at least it was his intention. I bet he wasn’t planning on feeling hard steel under his hands. Not here anyway.

Fucking well done, Roy Bastard. You ever heard of personal space ? Of course he acted on impulse and I can’t blame him for it but I wish this hadn’t been his first impulse.

Surprisingly enough, although he does tense up in shock, the moment doesn’t last a second and his kissing feels pretty convincing. Not that like it. I totally don’t.

“Haha sorry to disturb you again, I realised I had forgotten my gun. Just came to take it, don’t mind me.”

Get the fuck out of here before I knock your teeth out. Don’t you see we’re kinda busy here ?

Hell. Where did that come from ? Had I said this out loud, it would have really sounded as if I was enjoying myself. Which I am not. Thank you very much.

He quietly make his exit and Mustang doesn’t seem to register that he’s gone. I should probably stop this but it feels fucking great. He’s taken my wrists in one hand and is stroking the other lazily on my arms, slowly descending it to my torso. Apparently, passed the first moment of surprise, the part metal thing doesn’t bother him all that much. It’s nice. Almost as nice as his tight pressing against my groin. Shit. I’m getting hard. Wait, what ? Shit. I gotta stop this. Mustering my strength, I bring my right knee to my chest and push him with my foot. He looks surprised.

“The fuck you think you’re doing ?!” I know aggressiveness isn’t the best solution to every situation but this is how I deal with getting caught in something I wasn’t expecting.  
“Kissing you ?” I scowl at him. He pretends to shrink back in surrender but I can see he’s not really given up.  
“I’m going now. I have better things to do than being here.” At that, he looks almost alarmed.  
“Wait ! Will you come and see me tomorrow evening ?” Is he out of his mind ?  
“Of course not. Are you out of your fucking mind ? I’m busy. Especially in the evening.” Can’t let Al worry about me. He doesn't give up.  
“When can you come ?” I’m tired and I just want to go home. This room, these fucking candles, this freaking man and his addictive perfume are just messing with my head. And I have an almost-boner I’d like to get rid of. I didn’t think I was going to say that ever, but thank god I’m wearing a dress. There’s no way he can see it, like that. If I want to go I’d better answer, I’ll just stand him up later.  
“I have time in the afternoon. Not much though. Don’t get your hopes up.”  
“Let’s say four in the afternoon then. Is that okay by you ?”  
“Yeah perfect, whatever.” Just let me go home. I go for the door. I’m almost out when his voice stops me one last time.  
“Why did you save me ?” I shrug. What kind of question is that ?  
“Because I could.”

And I’m off. And breathing again. Except that I’ll have to go home dressed like this and invent a cover story for Al. I don’t want him thinking he goes around provoking murders and that I have to clean up after him. That is so not what this is about. And Winry isn’t going to let me forget this.

I take the utility elevator looking as casual as I can manage and I calmly step out of the Ritz. By the time I get to the car, Winry, who saw me coming from accross the street, is laughing her ass off. What a pale excuse for a friend she is. I let her calm herself while I climb in the car and just resume looking at her until she stops. It’s pretty efficient. Eventually brushing the tears out of her eyes and still clutching her stomach, she turns to me.

“Are you explaining how this happened or shall we wait for Al to be here as well ?” I wince.  
“I’d rather not have Al know about what happened. We’ll have to make a cover story for him.” Now she’s even more curious. It isn’t often I lie to Al. She knows it.  
“Oh. What’s the matter ?” I sigh.  
“Well remember the guy whose wife cheated on him that came to see Al this afternoon ? The one you thought was hilarious ?” She nods, frowning in confusion at the same time.  
“What about him ?” I sigh.  
“He wanted to kill his wife’s lover. Which I couldn’t let him do. And the police wouldn’t do anything because it hadn’t happened yet and the usual bullshit. So I... kind of rescued him ?”  
“Was it the hot guy from the photograph ? Was he as hot in real life ?” Jeez. This girl has her priorities sorted.  
“You have no idea” I answer despite myself. I can feel her staring at me. I can’t help it. Even though he’s a dick, he is also hot as hell. Well. I guess I owe her a better story than this. Better get started right now.

_____________________________

I shouldn’t go. I don’t want to go. He’s going to mess with my head again. I can picture him, being all smug and flirty with me. What a bastard. Winry was like, go for it, if you think your heart can take it. I don’t get what she was talking about. It’s not like my heart has anything to do with all this. Not a thing. It’s all... physical. Stuff. Whatever.

I can’t just stand him up, can I ? I’d hate it if someone did that to me. Maybe I’ll just leave him a note at the Ritz. Let’s write a note then.

_Mr Mustang. I’m sorry to inform you that I have another appointment this afternoon and won’t be able to see you. Apologies._

No. It looks like I’m searching for an excuse not to come. Like I’m afraid of him. I’m not. Like hell. I burn it.

_Mustang. As an afterthought, I have better things to do than meeting you. You go find another married woman to dine and leave me alone please._

Like I’d ever be able to send anything like that. Burning it. Right now.

_Mustang. I’m not even remotely interested in pursuing any kind of contact with you. You’re not the kind of person I like to see and our differences would be an obstacle. Please forget about me._

That should do. Not insulting but cold enough. I seal it. Just have to leave it at the Ritz now. I’ll do it on my way to the university. Shit. My briefcase. With all my due papers. Well fuck. Guess I’ll just tell him in person that I won’t be coming. Great. Just great. Perfect.

______________________________

I wish I could get him out of my head but I can’t. It’s like a crush. Better get going before I do something stupid. I have tons of beautiful and wonderful people waiting for me all over the world. Not gonna stop at one. Even though he is gorgeous. And so mysterious. I mean. I’m pretty sure his arm is part metal. And it’s barely visible. If I hadn’t touched it I wouldn’t have known... And I don’t even know his name... Although I’m fairly certain it starts with an E. Or maybe it’s his last name ? In any case, there’s a E engraved on the lock of his briefcase and it doesn’t looks like a brand. Definitely an initial. I’m actually dying to know what is inside that briefcase, but I’m afraid he’ll see it if I opened it and then never wants to see me again. See ? It’s exactly the kind of thought I should not be having. I've done the pining and stuff and decided I didn't want to do it again. So. Let's not.

Thankfully, duty call, my saving grace, has me going back to New-York by tomorrow. Which means I have to leave in the evening. Maybe I’ll call that gorgeous dancer I met a month ago... Or seduce a air hostess on the way... Sounds good. Better get back to packing, if I don’t want it to be the only thing I do today.

I’m almost done when I hear the knock at the door. I check the hour. It’s too late to be anything related to lunch and too early for the unusual afternoon date. I tell whoever is waiting at the door to enter.

“Hey bastard.” Wonderful. Apparently it isn’t too early for the afternoon date. I’m not complaining. Ignoring the rude greeting I smile agreeably.  
“Bonjour, beautiful. I wasn’t expecting you this early, missed me ?” He scowls. His reactions are delightfully surprising.  
“I came early.” I tilt my head and offer him a sweet smile.  
“I noticed. I’m not complaining. Just curious.” The scowl intensifies.  
“I came early to tell you that I wouldn’t be coming later. And to get my briefcase back also. Mainly. I wanted to leave you a note at the reception but then I remembered I’d left my briefcase so I figured I might as well kill two bird in one stone. Or whatever.” Not what I was expecting. He’s adorably rambling, which is cute as hell and I’m very disappointed by the turn of the events. Not that I’m going to let this happen. I put on my charm and push the briefcase behind me.  
“Of course. Well it is a good thing that you’re here, I need someone to help me close my suitcase. I just can’t close it. Please ?” He looks at me like he’s going to strangle me. “Please sit on it ? And I’ll help you find this briefcase you were looking for.” He sighs, scowls, and crosses the room to sit on my suitcase. And asks casually.  
"Are you leaving Paris ?" Is he disappointed ? Curious ? I can't tell.  
"As a matter of fact, I am. I thought that, with all the things you knew about me, you'd be aware, at least, that I am a busy man." I pretend to shift my attention back to my suitcase as he sits on it. Wonderful. "You're the perfect weight. Just enough to close it and not break it." He's supposed to take it as a compliment, regardless of how meaningless it is. However, his answer surprises me, for a change.  
"If you put the swedish twins on it, I can imagine it did. Break, I mean." He looks at me with something like mischief in his eyes and I'll be damned if it doesn't look wonderful on him. Also, it looks like he's no longer angry with me. Or a little less, at least. He seems to find my undignified surprise gratifying. What a delightful young man.

________________________

Okay. Before you start telling me about thing I know, it's not my fault. I know I said I wasn't interested. I know he's an asshole. Just look at him. Using his unfair face of his to get people in his bed. I mean. It's not like he's forcing people to cheat on their partner but he is insistent. And he's leaving today anyway... it's not like I can get hurt if I never see him again. And his face is priceless just now. There's something about him too... Like he's not taking himself seriously. Like all these people he sleeps with are making up for something he's missing. I thought it was adventure, breaking the rules, but I don't think it is. He wouldn't want to see me if it was. I'm just going to make the best of this very unfortunate encounter. And I'll never see him again. Besides, it's not like I can resist these eyes. You don't know shit. You've never looked at them.

He seems to be coming down from his surprise. That was quick. I would take my hat off to him if I had one. I do not.

“Tell me, how comes you know so much about me ?” I smile. I’ve read every single file Al has ever made about the people he investigates. Mustang’s is probably the biggest of them all. Not that I’m gonna tell him this.  
“I have my own private library.” I’m being honest here. I bet he can feel it. And just look at that tilt. He's intrigued. Good. If I play him, he won't be able to play me.  
“What kind of library is that ?” My smile grows a bit.  
“All sort of reference works. Like the World Almanac." I don't even know where the shit I say comes from. His head is way too close to mine. But this is fun. I like when he's confused. It's like he's less of a smug bastard. Like he's more human somehow.  
"You read about me in the World Almanac ?" It is a legitimate question.  
"Naturally. It's very complete. It's loaded with facts and figures. Like the tallest mountains, and the population of Portugal, the average annual rainfall in New Zealand..." Realisation dawn on his face. Finally. Yes I'm totally making fun of you right now. Please play along. Or do not. Because if you do, you'll make me like you.  
"What did it say about me ?" Damn it Mustang. You just can't help yourself, can you ?  
"You're way above average, it doesn't just rain, it pours." Something light up in his eyes. It's amusement. Mostly. I can tell there's something else. Is it fear ? Worry ? Disappointment ? He hides it quickly before I can make my mind and grabs me by the waist to get me down his suitcase.  
"Going to miss me when I'm gone ?" His voice is so low, almost a purr. What a fucking joke this guy is. I'm not letting him think I could miss him. No way in hell. Not playing by your rules, bastard. Besides, I'm not a mushy disgusting heap of marshmallow, I can exist within some distance of the people I love. Which, for the moment, does not even include you, Mustang. Not that it will ever.  
"Don't be so fucking full of yourself. You think I have nothing better to do than missing you ?" An amused glim pass through his eyes.  
"That's a relief." No kidding. Must be embarassing all those people who throw themselves at you, right ? Do you want my compassion too ? "I think people should always behave as though they were between two planes. See, with love, everything always ends up in tears and pain. I don't see the point." Of course you don't. You're not the one who's suffering. I hide my head in his neck to hide the face I can't help but make. "Will you stay with me for my last night in Paris ?" I sigh.  
"I shouldn't be staying late... I don't want to worry Al..." I don't want to tell you about Al, Mustang. You don't deserve it. You'll just have to do with this because you won't have more information about him. He's smelling my hair and caressing the length of my body with his deft hands. I really don't want to go.  
"You... live with someone ?" Uh. Interesting.  
"I do. Does it matter ? Should I content myself with you while you go around ? Can't you share ?" He detaches himself from me and looks at me, startled. Then flashes me a relieved smile. This was meant to be rhetorical. This was me calling him out on something he wasn't being honest with, I didn't expect he would come to the conslusion that I was somehow involved with Al. But he does.  
"You do agree with me on something ! As I always say, he who loves and runs away, lives to love another day." Such bullshit.  
"You're so full of shit." I couldn't hold it. Sorry not sorry.  
"Is it the way I talk ?", he asks, genuine curiousity painting itself on his traits. Before turning into a smug attitude. "I'm sorry but I can't help it. My natural class is so overwhelming I just let it out. It saves me the trouble of trying to tone it down. It usually have a different effect on people." Seducing smile again. Someday I'm going to punch his pretty face. Can't leave without my briefcase though.  
"So. What did you do with my briefcase ?" He shifts uncomfortably. Then proceeds to make me melt under his hands. He breath slowly in my neck, his voice low.  
"What about we look for it later ? I can think of much more pleasurable things we could do right now." God. I'm not religious but god.

I let myself be taken by the flow and ends up staying. For a moment, I don't care if I'm going to regret it later or not, I just relieve in the act and stop to think altogether. Not even my part metal arm manage to bother me. It's just me and this man I just met and who can annoy me with even more ease than Winry. And then this moment extends until the sun began setting on Paris.

I would be lying if I said I didn't enjoy the evening. Even the gypsies weren't so bad. Although they could use a little change of repertoire. This Fascination shit is so catchy I'm going to sing it all the month. Anyway, my briefcase mysteriously reappears later in the evening, and very conveniently so. What were the odds that we would find it just before Roy Bastard had to leave for the airport ? He hands it to me, almost sheepishly. He seriously should stop doing that shit. I'm not supposed to find him cute.

__________________________

"Will you walk me to my cab, Fullmetal ?" He sputters on his answer at the pet name.  
"What's with the name, bastard ?" I smile, a little helplessly.  
"Well, it has come to my attention that I didn't even knew your name, and I have to call you something, don't I ? So Fullmetal it is. You seem tough enough to live up to the name. I can change if it bothers you. Would you prefer darling ?" I stop as if to think and add with a cunning smile. "Unless you tell me your name. That would be lovely." The nickname came naturally. It's the way he reacts to everything. Like nothing can stop him. I don't really know where that came from actually. But that's the name I choose.  
"What's the point ?" He shrugs. "We'll never see each other again. And if you ever call me darling I'll kill you." Darling would suit him, though. What a wonderful temper he has.  
"It starts with an E, doesn't it ?" He frowns, apparently not pleased.  
"How would you know that ?" Here it is again. The suspicious look. Like everything I do is to trick him. Into what, that's the question. It's not like I had to trick him into sex. Moreover, I think I should be the one to worry about how much he knows about me. And here I am. Not worrying. Although I admit I am curious.  
"Isn't it your intial on the briefcase ?"  
"Maybe." Now that pout is bordering on adorable. Illegally so.  
"So what's your name ? I bet I can guess." Judging by the mocking grin that just split his lips, he doesn't believe so.  
"Go ahead."  
"Is it... Eugène ?" I can't believe this was the first name that came to my mind.  
"Nope."  
"Eric ?"  
"No."  
"Etienne ?" I'm almost hopeful with this one.  
"No."  
"Too bad... It suited you." He casts me an incredulous look.  
"The fuck."  
"Emmett ?"  
"No."  
"Edgar ?"  
"No."  
"Edmond ?"  
"Everett ?"  
"I can't believe you seriously considered all these name." The face he's making is priceless. It's sort of a mix between a pout and an amused smile, like he can't decide in which mood he is. Adorable.  
"I wouldn't have if you'd just told me, you know. And these are very acceptable, venerable names." I flash him a smile. He's not impressed.  
"Yeah right. Well let's go before you miss your plane. I'm not waiting for you. " And he leaves. I grab my suitcase and follow him. He's not being fair, is he ?  
"That's not nice. How fair is this ? You know everything about me and I don't know anything about you, not even your name ! It's not nearly equivalent !"  
"I saved your life. Nothing is equivalent to a human life. And you don't see me making a fuss about it." I sort of tense up, surprised by the sudden seriousness of the answer.  
"Are you always this dramatic ?" He fixes his eyes on mine in an exageratingly hard stare.  
"I'm intense. Isn't it what you like about me ?" I chuckle before nudging him.  
"Who said I liked you ?" He lifts an eyebrow. It's rhetorical.  
"Wasn't it the reason you wanted me to stay tonight ? I know I wouldn't beg people I don't like to stay with me." The sly little brat.  
"Is that so ? And why did you stay then ? And on a side note, I do not beg."  
"I would have proved you wrong, but it's too late for this now. Isn't that your cab, waiting for you ?" God. I do hope this is not our last encounter. I had yet to find someone to match me. The others are nice, but this one, he challenges me, and mostly, he gets me. This is so refreshing. And so, so, so fascinating. I look up to the street and the cab catch my eyes.  
"Indeed it is. Well. Can I offer you a gift ?" Did a third eye pop up on my forehead ? Because I can't think of any reason he should look at me like that.  
"Why in hell would you do that ?" Oh. Not used to gifts ? I shrug.  
"To thank you ?" He doesn't buy it. He shouldn't. I just really want to get him a gift.  
"You just made up an excuse, didn't you ?" Guilty as charged. But what is life without a little arguing ?  
"I'm not the one who said that nothing is equivalent to a human life. I ought to repay you until the end of my days, then, don't I ?"  
"Of course not. Don't you get anything ?!" Don't I ?  
"I do admit I'm rather lost. Would you enlight me ?"  
"If nothing is equivalent to a human life then you can't repay me and therefore you don't have to !" Is it really what this is about ?  
"Then why won't you tell me your name ?"  
"I don't feel like it." Got you.  
"That's not equivalent either. If I don't owe you anything for saving my life, then why wouldn't you owe me anything for telling you my name ?" He's pouting. It's positively adorable.  
"You didn't, though. I already knew. You technically didn't gave me anything." He does have a point.  
"I would invoke this evening to protest but I believe deeply in the reciprocity of sex and from my experience, so do you." He's blushing. Everytime I think he can't get anymore attractive, he does this kind of things. And I've only known him for a day and a half.  
"Alright. It does start with an E."  
"Thanks for nothing. Can I get you a gift for keeping me company ?" I don't want him to forget me. I don't do relationships but I do keep in contact with interesting people. It's not because I'm not exclusive that I don't enjoy learning to know people and how to pleasure them. And make them learn how to pleasure me. Reciprocity.

He looks at me with a frown on his face. I think it is his default setting. He then extends his arm to take the white carnation pined to my lapel and bring it to his nose.

"Here's the gift. Will you go away now ?" A delight. A ray of sunshine.  
"Is it Eloi ?" I didn't even know it was possible to roll your eyes that far. I'm impressed, really.  
"Are you deaf ?"  
"If I say yes, will you answer my question ?"  
"Of course not. Go away, bastard."  
"I'm going right now. Look how fast I'm going. See you, Fullmetal." I'm really going though. I'm almost at my cab.  
"Damn it Mustang ! Stop with this shit already." Hehe. I hop on the car, feigning not to hear him and wave at him.  
"Not hearing you, I'm already too far ! Good bye Fullmetal !"

____________________________

Appart from how awfully unprofessional that made me, I didn't used to mind Brother reading my files. But this is getting out of hand. I know he reads them, because he's not capable of putting them back, and not especially trying to hide either. And he gets crankier and crankier everytime he does. And restless. Irritable. Angry.

Or even worse, sometimes, he gets kind of sad. Not really sad. Just a little bit. Like he regrets something. I can't really say if he regrets doing something or if it's something that could have happened and didn't. It's hard to tell. But it's either one or the other. I'm positive about this. I know Brother well enough to know that.

I got the feeling Win knows a little more than I do about all this, but she won't tell me anything. She's always been more of a best friend to Ed and a big/baby sister to me. Yes. Both.

They're talking in Ed's room. I open my ears. I know I shouldn't but how else am I supposed to fix anything if no one tell me what's wrong ?

 _"What were you even doing in the fridge ?! It's not like you can cook !"_ It's Brother. He's right. Most of the time, he does the cooking, and when he doesn't, I do. Winry can't cook. Not even if it was to save her life. Unless it's apple pie. And even if it is, it has to be with our oven and ustensils. Otherwise, she's lost.  
_"I was hungry ! That's not the point ! So where does this flower comes from ? Why did you put it in the fridge ?"_ A flower ? I recall finding one. A white carnation. And I did want to know what it was doing there. Until I forgot, that is. Mustang is giving me more work than ever.  
_"To preserve it, duh ! Now let's make a deal okay ?"_

They're heading to the door. Entering the living room, which is also my office. Crossing it. Ed has a small glass with a rather faltered white carnation in it and Winry is following him, her suspicious-yet-worried look on her face. That can't be good.

"The deal is : I stay out of your tools, you stay out of my fridge. Deal ?" He really is cranky. Winry sighs. It's a good deal. She should accept. Although I suspect her hesitation is the fruit of her frustration over Ed not being open with her rather than of the deal itself. It doesn't happen very often.  
"Deal." She's right. We're not getting anything out of him until this mood stops. She doesn't stop Ed from returning to his room after puting the flower back in the fridge, probably to dive in a book until he's hungry or fall asleep on it. I'm not sure if I prefer him sulking or hiding behind work.

"So tell me Win, is it serious ?" She looks at me like she'd forgotten I was here. Then softens.  
"It's Ed. You know he doesn't ever do things by halves. But he'll be alright. I think he just might need something to get it out of his head..." Interesting.  
"To get what out of his head ?" She smiles at me. A wide, beaming smile.  
"Not telling you ! It was a promise. Any idea how we can occupy him ?" I think for a bit.  
"I think they're giving Tännhauser at the Palais Garnier, these days. Maybe you could take him ? He's always loved Wagner, and I can't go..."  
"Working on a new case ?"  
"A client from Brussels. His wife ran away to Paris with the chauffeur. I have to find them ; the husband wants his car back."  
"I would too. If it's the car I'm thinking of, it is a treasure of the automobile. Well, it's a good idea. I'll take him. You already have the tickets, don't you ?"  
"I admit I was thinking of taking him for a long time. You know how much he loves Wagner."  
"You're wonderful. It's too bad you can't go too..." She smiles, kiss my cheek and head toward her room. "Don't work too late, Al."

______________________________

So far, it's working. Ed hasn't been this relaxed in months. He does love Wagner a lot. I told Al not to worry but I'm worried. He's only known the guy for like, two days, and he's sad that he's away. The thing is, I think they got along very well. Better than Ed expected. I think he just wanted a hook up. Because the guy was hot and wasn't going to get hurt, since one-night stands are kind of his thing. And then they got along. And Ed regrets doing this because now he can't stop thinking about what they could have become if it hadn't been for the guy's strong policy on not falling in love. He's stupid. Not Ed. The Mustang guy. He can't possibly be happy forever like this. It might be satisfying right now, but when he's older ? And where does he find the comfort of knowing someone so well they become part of yourself ? I'm the one that's stupid. He  
probably has friends. Maybe he's aromantic. That would just be Ed's luck. Fortunately, he's not here anymore, so Ed is going to forget him, sooner or later.

Speaking of Ed, he's fidgeting next to me. And pulling at a thread on my shirt !

"Ed, what are you doing ??! Don't pull on it !" He looks at me with wide eyes, like he can't understand what my words could possibly mean, and carry on his task. It's not long before the sleeve of my shirt rip off. "See ??!" He laughs quietly and I can't help but laugh too.  
"Sorry Winry, it's a cellist reflex. I see a thread, I pull on it to rip it off." Thank God I'm wearing a jacket on top of my shirt. He takes the sleeve, fold it, and put it in my front pocket, like it's a hankerchief. There's the twinkle in his eyes I like to see. That's my best friend. I love him. I tell him.  
"I love you, you stupid dork." He beams at me. Hugs me from the side.  
"I love you too, you mechanic nerd."

Not letting go of me, he snuggles a little closer, making himself comfortable on my shoulder, and resumes watching the opera. I like it when my boys get cuddly. I love cuddles. I like that he's comfortable enough with me to cuddle in public, like our relationship is so much more important than whatever people might imagine, and like my mere presence is enough to make him feel better. He's had a boyfriend once. A stupid one. Didn't last long. He couldn't accept how close we were to each other. Couldn't understand how different our relationship was. Ed dumped him. I don't know if it's why this is the only boyfriend he's ever attempted to have. If I'm preventing him from getting one. But I'm pretty sure someone who wouldn't understand how much Ed loves Al and me wouldn't understand Ed at all. So maybe it's not that bad. Ed's just looking for someone who will be able to understand. Maybe he's had the feeling Mustang could. That's probably why it's so hard on him that they could never be a thing. Damn you Mustang.

Suddenly, he tenses up at my side. Before elbowing me violently. He shouldn't forget this arm is stronger than the other. Or he didn't.

"Win !"  
"What ?" He hands me the spectacles. "It's him. Look !" I do as he tells me. It is him. And I'm pretty sure he's not alone. I'm conflicted. If he's here, there's a chance Ed can have what he wants. But there's also a better chance that he might get hurt. I'm not sure I like it. Ed is watching me weirdly, waiting for my reaction.  
"Well, maybe you can seduce him ? If he's here for longer than before, you might have time to win his heart, won't you ?" He's got a pained expression on his face. I don't like it.  
"I don't know... Have you ever considered that maybe he couldn't be in love with people ? That does happen, doesn't it ?"  
"Well yes, but what do you think about it ?"  
"I dunno. I can't say if it's his case just by looking at him. I have to know him better."  
"Atta boy. See ? Knew you had it in you ! You try and if it doesn't work, it's not like you would have lost anything, right ? Maybe even gained a friend !"

Someone behind us sort of hiss at us. It would be hilarious if that hadn't been meant to shut us up. I guess we are disturbing the concert. I'm secretly excited. I finally get to have a good look at lover boy. He's with a splendid ginger girl in a dress so green it's almost black. It is a beautiful dress. Not very practical though, if you ask me. I try and form a plan in my head to get them to meet at the intermission.

I rely on Ed to find Mustang in the crowd. He does. How surprising. The woman at his side is telling him something. She leaves. I want to see Mustang's reaction to seeing Ed with me. His gaze fall upon us. He seems confused for an minute. Ed makes a small nod of recognition, as if to encourage his brain to remember him. Mustang's eyes suddenly light up. Perfect. He makes his way to us, eyes fixed on Ed. I lean at his side and whisper in his ear, Ed naturally leaning in to me to hear me better.

"I'm going to have my sleeve repaired. Don't do anything stupid." Ed let out a nervous laugh.  
"I'm pretty unlikely to do anything that isn't stupid right now but I'll try." So cute. I kiss him on the cheek just as Mustang arrives in hearing distance, wink at him, and escape. I do have to repair that sleeve. What I wouldn't do for love.

___________________________

I'm so surprised to see the beautiful man from my last stay in Paris in such a normal place, dressed up for the opera and accompagnied by a woman, and a gorgeous one at that, that I don't recognize him right away. Then he nods at me and recognition hits me. And I was doing such a good job forgetting about him. See, it has come to my attention that we were getting along a little too well and that maybe I could get addicted to such company. It's only a theory though. We've only seen each other for two days.

The woman next to him, who seems to be about his age lean into him to whisper something at his ear. He naturally leans back into her to hear what she's saying in a way that shows a real complicity, almost intimate. He makes a small nervous smile. How unusual. She laughs quietly (or I guess it is quiet, because I'm almost within ear shot but not quite yet). She kisses him on the cheek. It looks very domestic. And at the same time, not really romantic.

She winks at me and before I have time to talk to her, she disappears in the crowd. She's a looker. But god he's too. How did I ever managed to forget such beautiful hair and eyes. And look at that neck too. Not to mention his ass, which I recall now is absolutely irresistible. I stand a little too close to him and purr.

"Bonsoir, Fullmetal. How delightful to see you here. Missed me ?" He scowls at me.  
"Do I look like a did ? And don't call me that." I don't know actually. That's the main problem with you, I can't read you. But you don't have to know it.  
"Not really, you did have a lovely lady at your arm." He seems lost for a while and then understanding dawns on his face.  
"Oh. You mean Winry. Yes, she is lovely. I tend to forget this." How peculiar.  
"You forget she's lovely and she still sticks around ? You must make a wondeful boyfriend." He makes a weird face.  
"Winry isn't my girlfriend. I live with her." Wasn't he living with a man ?  
"Didn't you say you lived with a man ?" Once again, he get this confused look on his face, and then he seems thoughtful.  
"Yeah. I live with both of them. You know..." He trails off. I certainly didn't expect this. Not that it bothers me. Not a chance any of us can get attached, like this. I spot Marilyne in the crowd, coming back from her smoke.  
"Come and see me tomorrow ?" He seems hesitant. The woman he called Winry is coming back. She slips her arm around his waist and flash a sweet smile at me. Undisturbed, he chews on his lips and looks a me.  
"I'm not sure I have time for you, Mustang. I'm a busy man, you can understand that, can't you ?" His smile is too sweet, like he's daring me. I'm about to counter-attack when the girl interrupts. I might kill her or wait a little and kill her anyway. I'm not sure yet.  
"Well, surely you don't have anything to do tomorrow afternoon, and anyway Al is on a trip right now, so he's not going to worry for you more than he does usually." Ed looks at her with question marks in his eyes and it's very unsettling.  
"Don't I ?" He sounds genuinely interested.  
"No you don't. It's summer vacations, you moron !" I don't understand what it changes, except maybe for the general population in Paris. More tourists, less students.  
"Is it ?" She rolls her eyes and turn to me. "He'll come at fifteen tomorrow, if that's alright ?"  
"I'll be delighted." I bow, take his hand, kiss it and look up to see him blushing. I'm not going to survive this, am I ? "See you tomorrow, Fullmetal."

As I walk away, I hear bits of their conversation.

 _"Fullmetal ?"_  
_"I told him not to call me that. It's a nickname he uses because he doesn't actually know my name..."_ He sounds somewhat embarassed about it.  
_"Thank god you never had to seduce me. That would never had worked. Was it your wonderful looks that did it ?"_  
_"Shut the fuck up. And for seducing you, it's not like I've ever needed to. I just have to bake these waffles you like so much and you're ready to answer my every command."_  
_"Yeah, whatever."_

They're too far now. I can't hear them anymore. I can't really pinpoint their relationship. They don't look in love but she made it look like they were intimate. And he didn't seem to mind too. Too much thinking. Again.

_______________________

Mustang is busy with his recording machine when I come in in the afternoon. I don't knock because he invited me and there's nothing of him I haven't seen yet, so I don't think there could be something he could want to hide from me. I don't really know how to act though. I think Winry tried to make him think that she and Al were my partners and I didn't denied it, so I could play that card. See if he gets jealous. I can't throw myself in this without an armor or I might not survive. Yesterday's encounter was a really good exemple. If it hadn't been for Winry, we probably would have ended up in a restroom, jumping at each other, and missing the second part of Tänhauser. Which would have been a shame. I love Wagner.

I decide to surprise him and creep up to his bedroom, listening intently. I can't believe he record his voice saying stupid shit like this.

_"Telegram to the Mayor of Venice. Preliminary estimate on the cost of overhauling your canals is 87 million dollars. If you want my advice, drain the water out of the canals and pave them over, or those plumbing bills will kill you. Item 8 : Attention, all Pepsi-Cola bottling plants in Great Britain. Suggested slogan, "Pop in for a Pepsi"... Okay by me."_

Not only does he owns Pepsi, which should be a shame in itself, but he records himself actually agreeing to the stupidest slogan in the history of slogans (no, exagerating is not my style).

I open the door with a kick of my foot. He jumps off his seat. Perfect. Looking around, I can't suppress a bitter feeling at seeing the entire suite unchanged. Of course. Reflects the man. Constant in inconsistancy. He looks at me, a betrayed look on his face.

"No one ever taught you to knock, Fullmetal ?" I ignore the remark.  
"I see nothing has changed..." I can hear the bitterness in my own tone. Fuck. Blissfully oblivious, he answers cheerfully.  
"Of course not ! Once you've got a winning combination, why mess around with it ?" I don't know, empathy ? I'll show you just how winning your combination is for the people you seduce. Apparently unaware of my mood, he carries on. "So, what have you been up to ?"  
It's on Mustang.  
"Oh, I don't get around nearly as much as you do. But I went on some dates." That is to say, I passed my PhD, gave some lessons, as usual. Accompanied Winry to the mechanic shop. Helped Al with rearranging his files, consequently to the last Mustang's adventures.  
"Did you ?" He sounds curious. That's not what I want. I don't even really want to lie to him. I'd much prefer getting to know him. Or getting him to know me. I hum in agreement.  
"There was this banker, from Brussel, who was passing by. It had been a long time..." I carry on like this for a short time, dropping one or two more people in the mess. He looks surprised. Then, a smirk tugs at his lips.  
"I've been meaning to ask..." I roll my eyes.  
"Go ahead."  
"Aren't you a little too young for that ?" I knew it. I smirk.  
"I was about to ask you a similar question." He quirks an eyebrow. "Aren't you a little too old for that ?" The betrayed look on his face is priceless.  
"That hurts ! First you save a man's life, then you stab him. Is that kind ?" I stop his protest by kissing him. It's very efficient.

Maybe a little too efficient. As we get carried away I push the thought aside. Something that feels this good can't be too anything.

Unfortunately, I don't have all afternoon. I lazily glance at the clock beside Mustang's bed. It's 16h30. If I don't want to miss orchestra practice, I have to go now. I sit up. Mustang's arm rises from the bed to grab mine.

"I have to go, bastard. Let me go." He groans. Then whines.  
"Won't you tell me your name ?" I pretend to think about it.  
"No." Upon this, I free myself from his lazy grip, grab my clothes, put them on and leave the room, in search for my folder with my sheet music. I hear him trying to call me from his bed, and I chuckle in spite of myself.  
"Edwin !" Not bad, old man. He clearly takes my lack of answer for an invitation to carry on his stupid guessing game. He does.  
"Elliot !" Too bad.  
"Eleuterius" He laughs to himself at that name. I pass my head through the partially open door.  
"The fuck, old man ?" He offers me an apologetic smile.  
"Emmanuel ?" I sigh and goes back to my searching.  
"Emile ! Come back, please ?" I don't answer.  
"Erwan ?"  
"Would you quit it already ?"  
"Not until I've found it. Is it Ethan ? Or Estéban ? If it is, you should have told me when I said Etienne. It's basically the same name."  
"When you're done saying nonsense, maybe you can help me find my folder ?"  
"It's on my desk. Is it Eudes ?" I grab it.  
"No. See you bastard !" I leave.

_____________________________

I know that Al is back as soon as I enter the appartment. He's talking with Winry in her room. I can't quite make out what they're talking about. I'm too far. I just hear them because they're really loud about it. At least, Winry is. As I approach, she seems to calm down. By the look of it, she's done something stupid or/and annoying and Al is lecturing her. Nothing out of the ordinary.

I lean against the doorframe, observing the show. Too bad I have nothing to eat. It would have been perfect. I figure Winry just came back from picking up my cello at the conservatory. At least, that's what it looks like.

Except that I wasn't there today. Since I was with Roy, obviously. So she's pretending that it's what she did. I'm not sure that's going to work with Al. His smile is telling me this.

"So Win, since you and Ed spend your time in my files, maybe you'd like to try a little investigation with me ?" I don't know where this is going but I'm pretty sure Winry is just as lost as I am.  
"Errr... Okay. What is it ?" Al smiles. Not a good sign.  
"Imagine I'm looking for something. Like, let's say, a fur coat that one of my customers entrusted me with. Where am I going to look first ?" She rolls her eyes but plays along, feigning innocence. I still don't know what this is about but surely, she does now.  
"Where you put it in the first place ?" His smile widdens.  
"Exactly ! And where was that again ?" Look at these innocent eyes. Would you believe how evil he is ?  
"In my wardrobe." He shrugs, innocence personified, and suggests.  
"Oh, really ? Why don't we take a quick look then ?" He reaches for the handle and opens the wardrobe. And then let out a fake cry of surprise.  
"It's not in there ?! But what is in there instead ?" He grabs something I can't see in the wardrobe and get it out. It's my cello. I'm gonna kill Winry. Does she not knows how much I value it ? And how much it objectively costs ?! It's a rhetorical question. Of course she does. And yet she puts it in her wardrobe where anything can happen to it. Al carries on, undisturbed.  
"It's Ed's cello ! What a surprise ! How did it get there ?!" Winry huffs but there's a hint of a smile playing at her lips.  
"Maybe someone put it there ?" Al's eyes widden. He should have been an actor.  
"Oh really ? Maybe you're right. Does that tell me where the fur coat is ?"  
"Not really ?" He nods, seriousness installing itself on his features.  
"So shall we carry on our investigation ?" The smile she's been holding is really starting to become obvious.  
"Tell me, ô great detective, how do we find the fur coat ?" He takes a thoughtful air and put his hand under his chin. What a fucking joke.  
"If the cello is where the coat should be, where could the coat be ?" Winry is shaking her head with fondness at his antics.  
"Maybe were the cello should be ?" Again, Al's eyes widden in mock surprise.  
"You think so ?" Winry nods, her eyes rolling again.  
"I don't see another option. You should have a look." He simulates the tentativeness of his gesture toward my cello box.  
"Let's have a look then." He opens it. There's a white fur coat that takes all the space. His eyes light up in delight and honestly, I would buy his act. Anytime. "Here it is ! How wonderful ! How incredibly peculiar !" Winry shakes her head and gives in.  
"You won ! I had a date with the girl who came at the workshop for automail-checking the other day. She likes fancy stuff combined with stupid stuff. It was too perfect to pass. And I rocked that look !" I choose this moment to manifest myself.  
"I bet you did. But if you put my cello in your wardrobe ever again, you'll be too dead to rock any other style than your funeral dress." Al and Winry spin on their heels to look at me.  
"Ed !" They cry in unison. Winry follows with a comment she wasn't supposed to make. Of course. Accompagnied by a wiggle of her eyebrows.  
"How was your afternoon ?" I ignore her in favor of my brother.  
"Already back ? Did you find the car ?"  
"Oh I did. It was a little too easy for my liking actually. Anyway, I had to be quick because the fur coat customer wanted said coat back to give it back to his wife because his secretary, for whom he wanted to have it reajusted came back from her last week-end with an anklet." I stare at him.  
"He changed his mind because of an anklet ?"  
"He finds it provocative. It's not exactly the kind of gift you get from your sister..."  
"Well. I don't get people anyway. I'm going to practice for a bit. If my cello has changed in any way you pay for the repair Winry."

I'm out of the room with my cello and the bow within seconds. An anklet. Would Mustang be jealous too if I wore one ? I wonder. Absentmindedly, I tug at a small chain on the handle of my cello bow. Maybe that's worth a try. What do I have to lose ?

_________________________________

I should be enjoying myself but I keep thinking of that chinese fighter girl he told me about the last time we met. It's bothering me. I want his attention on me to forget about it but here he is, sitting in the grass before the picnic table, eating like his life depends on it.

"What was her name again ? The chinese warrior ?" He looks up from the chicken wings he'd been chewing on.  
"You mean May ?" There's something in his eyes that makes me want to melt. The sheer amusement I see in it annoys me and warms me equally. His eyes are laughing at a joke

I don't understand. It's not my type to be jealous. It hasn't happened in a long time. I don't know what to make of it. It's already bad enough that I aknowledged it.

He's back to eating. It's like I don't even exists today. I don't like it. At all. I shall not be ignored. I walk to him and drop on the ground, falling at his side. He's still eating that damn chicken wing. It annoys me.

"Would you just stop eating ?!" He looks at me like I suddenly grew a second head. Like the concept of not eating is so incongruous it defies the laws of his universe. Which, knowing him, is probably borderline true.  
"I'm hungry, old man. I have a young and energy consuming body to fuel. Didn't you know food was my one true love ?" There's the glint in his eyes I like so much. He's making fun of me but in a suprisingly good way. I nibble softly at his neck.  
"Hmmm. We can't have that." I slowly follow his neckline to his jaw. He sighs sweetly. Hums quietly.  
"What do you mean, bastard ?" I lick at his earlobe.  
"I don't care about others. But the great Roy Mustang will not be defeated by food." I raise my head to meet his lips, but he places the damn chicken wing before them. Brat.  
"You shouldn't insult food." That's it. I'm pissed off. I have this gorgeous man right next to me and he denies me his attention in favor of food. Unacceptable.  
"Put. The damn. Chicken wing. Away." The least you could say is that he's not impressed.  
"Alright Colonel Bastard. Any particular place ?" I grit my teeth at his cheekiness.  
"Just put it away, damn it !" He smiles mischieviously and drops it in my front pocket. Of course. Brat.  
"Is this alright, Colonel Bastard ?" If he doesn't shut up I'm going to strangle him. I throw it away and grab his shoulder to lean him on the grass. However, as I bend on him to kiss him, a glim on his ankle catch my eyes. I stop dead on tracks.  
"What is this ?" He raises innocent eyes to meet mine.  
"What is what ?" I point to his ankle.  
"This." He plays the surprise and then the realisation. He knew damn well what I was talking about.  
"Oh this. It's an anklet."  
"An anklet ? Where did you get it from ?"  
"Well, it's not exactly something you get from your sister." He wiggles his eyebrows knowingly. That's it. I'm killing him.  
"Who was it ?!" I'm mad and I don't even know why. This is getting out of hand.  
"Remember May ?" Yes. Thank you for reminding me. "It's from her brother. He comes from a very powerful chinese family. He's got the sickest abs you've ever seen." I can't help it. It's driving me mad. With an impulse, I tug at the anklet and rip it off him. Then I realise what I just did.  
"Sorry. I... I don't like anklets on you. It doesn't suit you." His smile widdens into a smirk.  
"Is that so ?" He's twirling the anklet into his hand. He leans in to kiss me lightly and, with a flick of the wrist, send it flying into the nearby river. "You should have said so. It doesn't mean that much to me." I know it shouldn't bother me. I won't let it.

____________________________

I iddly think back of the lunch while Mustang flows the small boat down the river, my finger barely brushing the surface of the water. Funny story. May and her half-brother, Ling, are actually people my brother worked for. Some story about concubines. I don't exactly recall. The thing is, Ling offered us a trip to China to repay Al, although he'd already paid him so Winry and I got to know him too. It was a really nice trip. And Ling does have sick abs. But it's not like I ever touched them. He's practically married to his body-guard/best-friend. I chuckle to myself. He really was mad. I can hear him, through the calm flow of the river and the light chirping of the birds. He's mumbling to himself. Well. Maybe he's starting to realise it's not nice to be on the other end of that kind of behavior when you're not given a choice.

___________________________

Mustang is pestering me all the time about the "others". You know. The ones who don't bother him. What a joke. Maybe this wasn't the solution. But I couldn't have him running away because of his fear of commitment even before anything started.

The thing is, I don't know how to stop this. And I'm not even sure it's really working. Sometimes I feel like everything is going so well, and suddenly something happens that reminds me that he can't even think of me being the only one in his life. And I know I was warned before, but it still hurts. Winry tries to be positive about it but I can tell she's worrying about me. She's right. I'm falling in love with a man who doesn't believe in love and is probably not even able to love romantically for all I know. Because possessiveness does not equal love, does it ?

I slowly breath in the sent surrounding me. It's his. His left arm is wrapped around me, keeping me close. My metal parts must be cold on his skin but he doesn't seem to mind. It's one of the things I love about him. He sees beauty everywhere. He doesn't judge.

I glance at the clock. Damn it. Sometimes I wish I could stay the night. But I have a concert. No such luck. I get up, ignoring Mustang's groaning at my side, and dress myself up. Damn it. Can't find my left shoe. I begin my search, cursing loudly in the hope of getting Mustang off the bed to help me.

"What are you looking for ?" Oh. It worked. Damn. I turn my head toward him. He's wearing his stupid dressing gown, his hands in his large pockets.  
"My shoe. It could not possibly have disappeared !" He shrugs.  
"You can always stay. You know I wouldn't kick you out." His smile is so gorgeous. Look at that. I want nothing more than to stay. And yet I can't.  
"I can't. I've got somewhere to go." His shoulders fall a little in disappointment. It should please me but it only reminds me that it's all I will ever get. Damn. I'm getting sentimental here. I drop on my knees to look under the furniture. He just stands here, watching me crawl under the small console table by the door. Then he walks toward me to corner me under it. He makes these puppy eyes I like so much.  
"Please stay ?" I wish I could say yes but I can't. This concert is actually important for me, and even if it wasn't, I don't just stand people up. That's kind of how I ended up in this situation in the first place. I smile lightly as I feel Roy's hands on my arms, drawing me closer, probably to kiss me. He places his mouth near my ear, follows slowly the line of my neck and stop under my chin.  
"Everything about you is perfect." If only.  
"I'm not tall enough. And my ears stick out, and my arms arms are mismatched, and my jaw is much too square." He hums softly in my neck before levering his eyes to mine and smiling sweetly.  
"Maybe so, but I love the way it all hangs together." He's such a fucking sap for someone who doesn't believe in love. For a minute I really want to believe him, to tell him the words that I've been holding back so I could spend just a little more time with him. It is, of course, out of the question. And then he kisses me and I just want to melt in his arms and stay here forever.

The phone, however, doesn't agree with me. Mustang lets it ring for a while, until I get fed up and delicately shove him away from me.  
"Mr. Mustang, you're wanted upstairs." Reluctantly, he lets go of me and extends his arm over the console table to grab it before falling back on his butt.  
"Mustang. To whom do I owe the pleasure ?" He's all fakeness and sweetness again. I hate it. I watch his face, waiting for an indication on who it is. A flash of surprise cross his face. I can't tell if it's a good one or not. "Are you both on the phone right now ? I don't hear you well." He pauses. "You're in Paris ?!" I guess it must be the swedish twins. Again. Damn them swedish girls. Am I not blond enough for you, bastard ? I crawl out of under the console table and get up. I still got to find my shoe, but my mood is definitely ruined. All of this for nothing. I enter his office, but I can still hear his voice.

_"Of course, I'd be delighted to see you two !"_

That's it, Mustang. I'm tired of hurting. You don't give a fuck ? Then I'll see how you handle people not giving a fuck about you.

My eyes fall on his recording machine. Well. Since he wanted so much to know who my different fictive partners were, he's gonna get served. I grab it and begin my speech. I can still hear him talking to the two swedish sisters. It annoys me.

Maybe I shouldn't do that. Do you want people you love to suffer ? I don't really want him to suffer. Maybe I should just stop. On the other hand, I'm not sure it would actually hurt him, if his reaction to that phone call is any indication of his feelings. Which is the problem, really. I can't tell.

As I consider erasing the whole thing, I hear him hang up the phone. I drop the microphone in a hurry and barges out of his office.

He looks at me, apologetic, and he looks so sincere and affectionate that I just want to go back and erase that thing. And maybe curl up on the floor and cry. Too late. (Maybe not for the second part of the plan, but the next step would be dying to avoid the consequences of such a behavior and I'm pretty attached to living.)

"Something came up..." He looks hesitant and determined at the same time. How odd.  
"Don't worry, I was leaving anyway. Seen my fucking shoe somewhere ?" It hurts. Everything hurts. He doesn't answer. Instead, he grabs my wrist and tugs me to wrap me in his arms. I feel him talking into my hair. Can't make out what he's saying though.  
"What are you mumbling about, bastard ?" He speaks up.  
"Why won't you tell me anything ? Just your name. Please." I would have. Eventually. But it's too hard.  
"No. Trust me, it's better like this." I make a move to leave his arms, feeling something in his pocket. What is that ? Oh. It's my shoe. What a fucking bastard. Carefully, I slip it out of his pocket to drop it on the floor and carefully put my foot in it. Mustang hasn't given up.  
"Please tell me who you are ?" I sigh. I can't do this.  
"You know who I am, Mustang. I'm the boy in the afternoon."

See ? That's what you do to people. Showing them glimpses of somebody worth knowing, if not loving, and then you tell them to content themselves with the least interesting parts of you. I like the sex Mustang, I really do. But I'd like even more to know what makes you dream, to be the one that makes you smile like you do when you forget that you makes me come here to have sex and we end up talking instead. From what I've gathered, you can be kind, dedicated, considerate, noble even, not to mention funny, brilliant and so much more, but what you let people have is inconstant, smug and arrogant. And maybe a little gentleman. But that's not enough. You want to know who I am ? Then let me know who you are. Until then, I'll just be what you make me out to be and what you make yourself for me. The boy in the afternoon. You don't want to define us as something else, then I won't. Too bad. Maybe that's selfish, maybe I'm using your attitude as an excuse for my own but I don't care. I can't do this if you don't do it too. No opening up if you don't. Equivalent exchange. Of course, I didn't say that out loud. I just left. But it was hanging on the tip of my tongue.

_____________________________

He left. And I feel weird. I mean... I'm glad these twins are coming. They're nice and very beautiful. But is it bad that I just want to keep this man here with me all the time ?

I don't like where this is going. At all. I walk to my office and drop on a sofa. God dammit.

I just stay in the dark, thinking for a bit. I try to close my eyes and rest for a bit but something keep catching my eye. It's a light, I think. It keeps flickering. How annoying.

If I was in a normal state, it wouldn't keep me from resting, but the thing with rest is that the more I need it, the more difficult it is for me to achieve it. Stress and exhaustion make me jumpy and unfocused. I've had a lot on my plate at work and I keep having sleepless nights, most of them not involving Fullmetal's actual presence, unfortunately. He is, however, very much present in my own mind.

I'm just so tired. And stressed out. And maybe I didn't want to be attached to someone ever again, but it obviously didn't work out. I gotta get him out of my head. It's just my luck. It's been age since I've wanted to stay with someone and it has to be one of the few that share my politics on love. Who fools around.

I'm going to go insane if that blinking light doesn't stop right now.

It doesn't. Of course it doesn't.

Instead of actually going insane, I reluctantly prop myself up to identify the source of my torment. It's my recording device. Someone left it on. It wasn't me. Like I'd do something like that. Even in this state, I just don't do things like that.

It's been recording, apparently, which is it's usual purpose so I guess one thing is normal. That means Fullmetal probably didn't do any weird stuff with it like he did with my radio. Which I now can communicate with. Not that I'm going to use it like this. The look he wore when I barged into the room has me worried on what he recorded though.  
I didn't understand why he looked somehow guilty and regretful when I was the one to show him to the door, but now that I think about it, it must have had something to do with whatever he did with my recorder.

Tentatively, I switch on the recorder on reading position.

 _"So bastard. Since you were so curious about my life, here's the list."_ Dear god. That is not what I expected. Although I do admit that I'm curious about it. Maybe I'm not that attached, am I ? I do wish to know more about it, even if it through the kind of people he goes to bed with.  
_"So first, there is of course the two people I live with. No need to draw you a map. You get it."_ He sounds kind of hesitant but determined at the same time. How peculiar. Was he mad ? I don't exactly recall but the tone he employs doesn't sound very casual to me. It sounds angry. Not that it's unusual.  
_"There is this banker, from Bruxelles. And the chauffeur. He had a really nice car."_  
_"The chinese warrior, May, and her brother. And his body-guard."_ It kinds of makes me feel sick. Thinking of all these people touching him. Having the right to call him by his name.

It goes on and I'm tired. I don't want to hear it anymore. But when it stops, I put it on again. I obsesses me.

I choose bits and I play them over and over again.

_"She has the loveliest eyes."_

I pour myself a drink.

_"He's the most kind and compassionate person on earth."_

The gypsies are here and I hadn't even seen them. I send them the trolley with alcohol. I don't want to be the only one drinking and the twins are out of question right now.

_"He's very clever."_

Maybe I should stop. Am I not clever enough ?

_"She has this cute beauty mark under her left eye."_

That damn trolley keeps going back to me. Why don't they keep it ? It's not like I'm sober enough to pour myself a drink right now.

_"He was very tan and tall, with the most peculiar eyes."_

There are a lot of people, but it doesn't really compare with my own list. The thing is, he remembers them, first of all, which I'm not sure I could say of most people on my own list, except the ones I saw on a more regular basis. Then there is the fact that he's so much younger than me and already on the same path.

Just one more drink. Just one more time hearing his voice saying :

_"You're my first American. You're also the first I've ever wore a dress for. You're... interesting."_

Maybe one more time. Just to be sure.

_____________________________

He keeps brooding. I don't like this. I'm a detective and I can't even put the pieces together. I don't get it. I suppose there's someone making him feel like this but he won't talk to me. The cello is crying Fauré's elegy and I kind of wish I was a pianist so I could support him.

This is a good idea, actually. I'm definitely learning how to play the piano.

Not right now of course. Right now is cuddling in front of _My fair lady_ time. I carefully open the door to his room. He's angrily repeating the demisemiquavers over and over, creating an agressive buzzing sound. I watch him for quite some time, relieving in the precision of his fingers and marvelling at their incredible speed. His sound is filling up the room, surrounding me. It's powerful, it's raw and I know how much energy and emotion it carries. As it's already been established, multiple times, Ed never does things by halves.

After a while, he stops repeating the same notes over and over and carries on with the first melody, only an octave higher and then falls back on a variation of the second theme. Slowly, it dies down. It doesn't lose any of it strength though. It still grips your guts. Although I've got to admit that it's as much Fauré's doing as it's Ed's.

He's done. He looks tired. Finally, he looks up and manages a small smile that almost reaches his eyes. I know it's only because it's me.

"Hungry ?" The smile really reaches them this time. It's not a beam, but it's a light nonetheless.  
"Fuck yeah." He carefully puts his cello back on its stand and reaches out for my hand. It grips it with strength. He immediatly spots the pile of blankets on the couch and looks at me with adoring eyes.  
"Yeah I know, don't mention it. Not that you deserve it though." He's so adorable, jumping on the couch and hiding under the blankets. He lets his eyes peak out.  
"How do I not deserve this ?" I frown at him, but it's purely for the show.  
"You won't tell me anything. I don't even know what is making you like this." His face is apologetic but not that much. What a brat.

When I come back from the kitchen with two bowls of reheated stew, Ed has started movie, but it's only the opening credits. I fall at his side and he opens one arm to wrap me with him in the blankets, extenting the other to grab the bowl along with a spoon.

Here she comes. Audrey Hepburn. She's taking everything bad away. Not for a long time. But this is enough. Ed snuggles closer to me. It isn't long before he hums the melodies along with the characters. It warms my heart.

Winry opens the front door when Eliza commands the king to cut off Henry Higgins' head. By the look of her, she's outraged. Nevertheless, she waits for the song to be over to express her feelings in so many words, jumping between the two of us, with no regard whatsoever for our fortunately finished meals. Ed glares at her but she can tell just as well as I can that he doesn't really mean it, as his arm wrap itself around her to include her in our cuddle. She starts mumbling without much heart to it.

"How dare you watch _My Fair Lady_ without me ?!" I pat her head gently.  
"It was an emergency, Win, we would have waited for you otherwise." Immediately, she turns to Ed.  
"Was it, Ed ?" She's worried now. Maybe I shouldn't have. Ed stays silent for a while, watching Eliza struggle with pronounciation.  
"Yes it was." It's sort of a whine, like he doesn't really want to admit how bad he feels and prefers to hide it behind a bratty attitude. Too bad Winry and I know him so well.

As the movie comes to its end, I watch Ed shifting uncomfortably while Eliza sings that the world will carry on, even without Henry Higgins. I suspect there is some guy behind this attitude of his, but that was almost given. However, I've never ever seen him looking like that upon seeing said Henry Higgins turning on the gramophone to hear Eliza's voice. It's a mixture of guilt, regret, and determination. I search Winry's eyes for an explanation but she doesn't look like she's going to tell me anything. I swear to god, these two are going to be the death of me.

_____________________________

Obviously, getting drunk while listening to Fullmetal's voice talking about his multiple affairs was a bad idea. Unfortunately, I seem incapable of coming up with anything but bad ideas these days.

My head is killing me and I haven't even opened my eyes yet. Slowly, carefully, I lift an eyelid. Arrrgh. So much light. Alright Mustang. You can do this. You have a ton shit of things to do.

I roll over to shield my eyes from the light with my own body. You could legitimely ask yourself what the fuck I am doing on the floor but the answer is pretty obvious to me.  
Sleeping on a chair is bad for the back. And the neck. What I did not expect, however, is that upon rolling over, I come face to face with four familiar people, also fast asleep at the other end of the room, their instruments scattered around them among empty bottles. Huuum.

I painfully gather myself up to write an excuse note to the cleaning team before calling the reception, keeping the phone as far as I can from my ear as it rings. I ask for the room to be cleaned up for this afternoon. I've got to find something to do in the meantime. Thankfully, my throbbing head and my aching muscles provide me with an answer. I'm going to the public baths.

The thing with public baths it that it takes your mind of things, which is exactly what I'm going for. I've got to focus on my work and impending, nay final departure and everything in my suit at the Ritz is trying to prevent me from doing so.

The journey to the baths is awfully slow. So awfully slow that I have time to conjure up all my memories from last night, and to come to the conclusion that I can now recount by heart the entirety of what Fullmetal recorded yesterday. And isn't that just pitiful ? God. I feel like shit.

This is exactly the reason why I don't fall in love anymore. In fact, I'm not in love. Who's this little bratt who thinks he can take over my heart without even telling me his name ? Who does he think he is ? I'm not falling for anybody ever again. It's not an option and the only reason I feel like shit is because I drank to much last night. Out of boredom and certainly not out of jealousy.

And by the way, I only recall that recorded speech because I find it funny. No other reason.

By the time I get to the public baths, I did a pretty good job at convincing myself that I don't need anyone like Fullmetal in my life and that he is more of a liability than an asset. Funny how the mind works, right ?

Of course, the universe is against the idea of me getting any rest today. Or maybe ever. Not only because I run into the man who happens to be the reason I met Fullmetal in the first place, which on its own does a really good job at ruining my efforts to forget about him, but this man is also extraordinarily talkative. Painfully so even, if I have to consider my aching brain. To add to my misery, he's also unbelievably rude and keen on rubbing his own happiness in other people's faces. Which narrows it down to my face right now, seeing as we're alone in the room.

"Are you Mr. Mustang ?" I groan. Yes. That's me. Please leave me alone. "You are !!" Incredible. I am. Who would have thought ? Can you leave now ? Please ? "God, you look awfull !" No kidding. "I'm doing really well myself, my wife is as beautiful and perfect as ever. See, before this incident, the doubt was eating me out. I couldn't sleep, I couldn't think straight. And now, life is great again. But you... You look just like I was before this whole thing was resolved. Is it the young lady I mistook for my wife the other day ?" Despite myself, I nod slightly. He doesn't miss the movement. "You should do the same thing I did ! I went to that great private eye, and every doubt went away. As soon as I knew, life was beautiful again. I could give you the address if you want ?"

I just want to get rid of him. I agree, thanking him absentmindedly as he leaves to write it down and slip the note in my locker. Maybe I'll go. Maybe that will really help, who knows ? It could cure me.

_____________________________

Ed is locked in his room, spread on the floor in a pile of books, wrinting down notes for his future classes. When he is in this state, there is little anyone can do to disturb him. That's the reason I have my office our appartment in the first place. No need to spend money in an other office if I can just do everything here. And we're already paying for Winry's workshop. Maybe we should buy it for real instead of just renting it.

I haven't any appointment booked for today but there's always people to come unannounced. The moment the thought forms in my head, I hear a knock on the door. I take my time to answer it, peeking through Ed's door to make sure I won't bother him, and gathering some of my scattered papers on the way to the door to put them in an open drawer. Urgh. Ed's habits are rubbing off on me. There's no way I was this messy when I started working. And here I go not sorting my papers and procrastinating.

I should have prepared myself for the visitor, however. I can't help the wide smile that spread on my face when I see him, and that's really unprofessional, in my opinion.

Thankfully, my good manners aren't all gone yet, and I quickly get hold of myself.

"Bonjour ! To what do I owe the pleasure ?" He kind of looks uncertain, which isn't surpising given the incongruousness of the situation. However, it isn't long before he straightens himself to look at me retrieves what I know to be his usual manners.  
"Bonjour. I hoped that we could talk about this inside and not on the doorstep, but then again, I didn't make any appointment so maybe it isn't the right time." I grin at him to put him at ease. I still can't believe my own eyes.  
"This is a great honnor. Come right in, Mr Mustang." Now this look on his face is one that I've never seen before and I spent a laaaarge amount of my work hours spying on him so I know what I'm talking about.  
"You know me ?" The incredulity in his tone isn't nearly as obvious as I had hoped. He's good at hiding his emotions apparently.  
"Do I know you ? Does an art student know Picasso ?" I grin one more time. What a fun day this is going to be.

Or so I hoped. The discussion begins rather normally, if not for the fact that the one asking for my help was Roy Mustang himself, or Roy fucking Mustang, as Ed would have put it. The thing is, I never would have guessed that anyone could tie that man down.

My theory was, until now, that this man needed someone able to challenge him, someone who would appreciate his good looks but not grant him everything for it. Someone who could understand what his work was about but also who would have been able to hold any other conversation he would want to have. It hasn't escaped me that he is, in fact, a brilliant man, and that he sometimes longs interesting conversations. I believe him to run away from anything resembling love because he feels tied up to people who love him and aren't interesting enough for him to love them back. The fact that someone exists who was able, maybe not to tie him to them, but to keep him intersted enough that he wouldn't want them to see other people is impressive. And unsettling.

Of course, my surprise doesn't last long. Or, should say, doesn't stay focused on this particular fact for a long time. It simply moves on to another fact. One that worries me more than it surprises me to be honest.

See, like the good detective I am, I ask questions, about what he knows about the people the man he's talking about is seeing, this kind of things. And the answer is so amazingly improbable that for a moment I can't think anymore.

"Well he mentionned quite a few... There was these chinese people, warriors I think ? He also talks about the two people he lives with very often. Maybe mentionned a banker ? And a smoking soldier... And another, a woman. With a beauty mark under her eye. I don't know. There were a lot." I don't believe him. What I do believe, however, is that every man or woman this guy ever mentioned, even in passing, without thinking about it, is engraved in his memory. He's pretending not to care but he wouldn't be here in the first place if it wasn't eating him out. If he wasn't obsessed with that knowledge. Then what he just said sinks in.  
"Did you say a banker ?" He nods. "And chinese warriors ?" He nods again. This is weird. "What did he say about the people he lived with ?" It's like someone went through all of my files. Read them. It sounds like something Ed could come up with.  
"Not much. He did look very fond of them. I actually met the girl when I saw him at the opera. She was a blonde but not quite like him, and with blue eyes. Very lovely." Yep. Definitely could be Winry. Not to mention the opear thing.God. Ed. What did you get yourself into ? Is this what is making you so miserable lately ? Looks like you're both making each other miserable to me.  
"What did you say his name was ?" He gives me a look that cries despair.  
"He wouldn't even tell me his name ! Said something about me not needing to know it. But I'm pretty sure it starts with an E because it's what's written on his briefcase and the writing doesn't look like any brand I know..." I don't see how it could be anyone else. I smile at him reassuringly.  
"Don't worry, you'll have your file by tomorrow morning. It was a pleasure meeting you in person, Mr Mustang. See you tomorrow." He nods and thanks me again before leaving. He's not so bad. But god. I really don't know what to do.

On an afterthought, I run to the door, open it and catch him descending the stairs. I call his name. He stops. Looks up at me with an openly questioning look I know is absolutely controled and only meant to make up for his silence.

"Do you love him ?" He seems startled. Hesitant. And flash me a cocky smile that doesn't reach his eyes.  
"Love ? Who said anything about love? I said I was interested. I have many interests." Of course. Thanks for nothing.  
"Alright. Have a good day, Mr Mustang." He greets me back. I close the door.

This is so hard.

Ed is not a child. He can take care of himself. But he's not giving things a chance to even start. I'll just hand in the file. With a little warning, maybe. It's time those two idiots, who are obviously pining after each other, accept to be happy.

Let's get to work then. However small it promises to be, that file isn't going to write itself. I can't believe I'm doing this.

_______________________________

I might be on the verge of carving a circle into the otherwise rectangular and by the way quite nice carpet I keep pacing on. Going to that private eye was a relief and certainly helped me sleep last night, but now I feel like I'm betraying Fullmetal. Like his silence about himself was a condition for what we had, and that going behind his back like that is going to break an unphrased rule. Like he was somehow trusting me. My feverish brain imagines him coming early and stumbling upon private eye Elric. Or something.

I wish I could turn back time. Maybe if I keep going in circles in my room it'll work ?

I'm pathetic. The great, untouchable, untamed, unforgettable Roy Mustang is reduced to a mess. I'm ready to fall into an even deeper level of pathetic when a knock on the door interrupts me.

Straightening myself, I pass a hand through my hair to order it a little and clear my voice before inviting Mr Elric to come in. And so he does.

The way my tortured and obsessed mind handled yesterday's situation is pretty remarquable, now that I think about it, as Mr Elric's appearance suddenly strikes me. He looks incredibly like Fullmetal. And at the same time, he can't even begin to compare to him. The shade of his hair and eyes is darker, with a greenish glint in his eyes. But there's something about his features. Maybe the way he moves. The way he carries himself. Something that reminds me of Fullmetal. But although he is probably just as beautiful as him, I can't find it in myself to be interested. The fact that I didn't aknowledged the likeness yesterday is impressive.

I can feel my own angstiness dripping from me as I tentatively ask him, after a polite greeting from both of our sides.

"So... Did you find anything ?" I sound weak, even to my own ears. But I'm beyond caring now, it's become an health matter. He seems almost hesitant as he reaches in his briefcase to grab a single sheet of paper.  
"I did. Here it is." As I reach out to take it, I can't help the surprise mutter that escape my lips.  
"All of it ?" He smiles, somewhat saddly.  
"Yes. That's it. His name is Edward." Edward. It suits him. It's beautiful. Finally being able to put an name on his face is so wonderful it startles me.  
"I does start with an E. I can't believe I couldn't guess this... You'd think he wouldn't be ashamed of a name like this." I shake my head. "What else ?" This is the part that frightens me.  
"He's 24. He's had all in all one single partner. Or boyfriend. Lover. Whatever you want to call it. The name was Michel. He lives in Paris with his younger brother and his best-friend, who could be his sister all the same. He plays the cello. Professionally. And recently got his PhD in physics and chemistry. He almost lost his arm in an accident while saving his brother, and his best-friend fixed it for him. You know the rest."  
I check the sheet again, looking for more, but this is it. Some details on his achievments as a cellist, maybe some precisions here and here but the "Relationships/Adventures" section is almost blank.  
"How can it be ?? Are you sure ?" He obviously takes pity in me upon seeing my confusion and sighs again.  
"Positive." I watch him closely, as if his face could tell me how good he is at his job. His eyes don't waver.  
"How can you be sure ?" I ask again, because his self-confidence is really something else. Something in those bright eyes light up, maybe in amusement, but it doesn't last.  
"You might want to take a closer look at his name." Slowly, almost painfully, I lower my eyes on the sheet again to narrow them on his name. Edward Elric. Realization downs on me. "You're his brother." He nods.  
"I am."

I don't know what to say. For one of the few times it happened in my life, I'm at loss for words. I don't even know what to feel. I'm torn between relief and hope on the one hand and a mix of hurt and anger on the other hand.

Oh. And understanding. Because that's how he knew so much about me. The little brat.

As I try to process the information, Edward's brother lightly clear his throat to get my attention. I look up to him, finding him ready to go.

"You're seeing him, after me, right ?"  
"I... I'm supposed to, yes." He nods in aknowledgment.  
"I thought so. Just keep in mind that whatever he says or does, my brother is always completely and shamelessly himself. And it's always with all his heart, body and soul." I don't understand what he's going at.  
"I'm not sure I understand why you are telling me this, Mr Elric." He sighs, and shakes his head.  
"I'm not sure I do either. Just... Don't keep him hanging. Accept him or reject him but do not give him false hopes. He's just a little fish in this huge ocean, and he's not used to these games. You could crush him, but I'd rather you just let him go if you have to." He pauses, visibly unsure of what to say next, before finally heading toward the door, his eyes still locked on mine. "Goodbye Mr Mustang. It's been a pleasure working with you." And with that, he's out.

___________________________

I'm not sure I can do this. Private eye Elric, no Edward's brother is long gone now and I'm just lost. I'm not sure I've even been this lost in my entire life. I can't believe just how much this one guy brought my life upside down. When I think about it, the list never seems to end. First, there's the fact that I was determined never to attach myslef to someone ever again. And he just... Slipped into my life. Made a mess. Destroyed my resolutions. I can't get enough of him.

Then there's the fact that I trusted him, which is an even bigger deal than me getting attached. Trust is something that doesn't come easy to me. There is a reason I can count my real friends on the fingers of one hand. There is a reason I never let myself be vulnerable to other people, a reason they never know enough about me to hurt me. A reason why I never know enough about them to be sad when I never see them again.

But to this man I opened up. I was myself. And learning that he wasn't hurts more than I could have imagined. Maybe it could be fixed. Maybe not. It feels so unbalanced. That he knows almost everything about me, wether be it what he found out through his brother, or what I let him know, while everything I thought I knew about him was a lie.

 _"Whatever he says or does, my brother is always completely and shamelessly himself. And it's always with all his heart, body and soul."_ That's what his brother said. Pretty contradictory with the experience I've had, if you ask me.

Did he even like me ? God. I do not want to go there. I'm leaving. This will be for the best. I'll find another hostel, I'll never come to Paris again. Whatever. I'll just forget about him. Should be easy enough, if I don't see him. Right ?

Fortified by my decision, I get up the sofa and proceed to gather my possessions. It'll be just like our first afternoon. Me, packing for a trip, him being his usual, endearingly bratty, self. Except I'll be leaving for good this time. And this was never him in the first place. That was just me being a fool.

The familiar sound of a foot kicking the door open interrupts my thoughts. There he is. I brace myself for an unconventionnal greeting, one that would contradict every rules I've ever learned about courtesy, but it doesn't come. Just the silence. Which is unusual, for him. Then again, what do I know. I know I sound bitter but this is just so hard. As casually as I can manage, I speak up.

"I can't believe I've been deceiving myself to the point of thinking that you were even capable of learning manners, Fullmetal." I don't want to look at him yet. I don't want to look at his familiar eyes and not be allowed to find them familiar and comforting anymore. His answer, however, takes so long to come I almost give in.  
"Are you... are you leaving ?" This is... Unexpected. Honestly, he sounds so put out and lost I almost want to hug him. He wasn't supposed to be reacting like that. I was supposed to find him different, in the light of the knowledge that he'd been lying, and yet I can't find any indication that he isn't sincere in his reaction. That is how the person I learned to trust would have reacted, probably, and I can't find it in myself not to believe it. No one can act that well. Even I can't. But I can't let myself be distracted either.  
"Yes. I am, indeed, leaving." He falls silent behind me.  
"Is it... Is it for long ?" Why do you care ? Why do you make it look like you care ? Why are you lying to me ?  
"Yes. I'm not coming back anytime soon, I'm afraid." I hear his short intake of breath and I instantly regrets not having turned around to face him earlier. "Gonna miss me ?" I can't help it. This is so natural for me. I'm so used to it. His answer is hesitant. Like he's in some sort of haze.  
"Why... Why would I, Mustang ? Do you think you're so irresistible ?" I turn around. His smile is so, so weak. I can tell it's a front. I can tell he's lying. But maybe that's just me wanting him to be lying and making things up. He stares at me for a bit too long, before strengthening his smile and adding : "So, convinced them to dry up these canals yet ?" And like that, we fall into our familiar interractions.  
"All things considered, I decided not to insist to much on that idea to the Mayor, because how sad would that be ? Do you imagine how many dates would be ruined by my impossibility to take them on a gondola ? That can't be good for me... " And we carry on. But I feel my imminent departure between us, and the thoughts that heve been turning in my head since this morning, too.

As Fullmetal, no, Edward explains with wide hand gestures and abundance of swearing why my take on the destiny of Italian culture are not only wrong, but incredibly stupid, I find myself immersing in the sound of his voice, and suddenly, his brother's word make perfect sense.

As he talks, he's gathering some of my things, piling them up in a suprisingly organised mess on the bed, in a way that makes it convenient for me to sort what's important and what's not and how I should put them in my suitcase in order to be able to fit everything, but also meets his standards and probably agrees with the way he thinks. It's so utterly domestic and just plain nice to witness that I have to pause for a moment.

_"Whatever he says or does, my brother is always completely and shamelessly himself. And it's always with all his heart, body and soul."_

It's not that I haven't learned to know the real Edward Elric. I know how he thinks. I know how he reacts. I know his habits. What he likes and what he dislikes. The only thing he's been hiding for me is his outside life, but not his self. That's a pretty big part of him I don't know but nothing that can't be fixed. I still know him. He's not a different person. He's genuinly upset that I'm leaving and he's doing his best to enjoy our last time together. Not to let me know how much it upsets him. Because, of course, isn't it supposed to make me run away ? Didn't I repeatedly tell him that sentiments were something I didn't want ?

I understand, really, but what was he thinking ? That it could go on forever ? That's he'd lie all his life just for a chance of seeing me from times to times ? Was he never going to be truthful ? It can be fixed, certainly, but he has to want it.

At some point, he lifts his head and his eyes meet mine and I feel like he's going to say something. But he doesn't. Or rather, he does, but it's not what I was waiting for. And we're running out of time. And I can't believe he's not going to do anything to stop me from leaving.

Maybe that's selfish of me, to expect him to be the one to put himself in danger. To make himself vulnerable. But he's also the one who hasn't been honest. He knows it's his last chance. I didn't say it in so many words, but we understand each other, and it's obvious I'm not coming back. And if he still doesn't think he owes me the truth, at least so I can make this choice in full knowledge of the cause, then maybe I'm not really what he wants and he's not really who I think he is.

And so it goes on. On the way to station. On the platform. I keep teasing. And being flirty. And I keep suggesting that I won't coming back, in case he's missed it. And he's so beautiful. And he looks ready to cry.

And I can't stop thinking. Please. Please tell me the truth. Please do it. Please be the person I thought you were. Please let not everything be a lie.

___________________________

I can't believe he's running away. I just can't believe it. And he keeps looking at me like he's waiting for something and I keep trying to hold back my tears and it's so, so hard. I don't want him to go away. I want to tell him all these people were never what I said they were. I want to tell him that I love him and if he lets me I'll stay by his side forever.  
Because maybe that sound ridiculous and sappy and maybe that'll make him run away even faster (and really, that's the only thing that's stopping me right now), but that's how I feel.

But I let him be. I let him climb on the train. And I just can't stop the tears now. He's going to see them. I know he is. So I turn around while he's not looking. Maybe he'll think that I just don't care.

One of the station employee blows a whistle. And at the end of my field of vision, I see Al and Win, running toward me with my cello. What the hell are they doing here ?

Win is the first to reach me. She slaps the back of my head and immediately starts insulting me, as if I wasn't in enough pain already. She's talking so fast I almost can't make out what she's saying. And on top of that, I'm still crying like a baby.

"Did you tell him you stupid ? Please tell me you've told him the truth or I'll end you ? Did you ? ED ??! Did you ? If you didn't you're the biggest moron on the planet and that's saying something because that Monsieur X was setting the challenge pretty high if you ask me ! So ? Did you ???!" I'm lost. The train is leaving. And Al is nearly reaching us, my cello tucked under his arm. I burst out.  
"NO I DIDN'T ! Stop that already !!! I can't !! He'll just reject me !" And Al is here. And he's shouting on top of the train starting.  
"How do you know this ??! What do you have to lose you moron ??? He's leaving forever anyway, isn't he ?"

Maybe he's right. Maybe I should go. Just to make sure I'm not losing anything.

I turn around and he's at the end of the train, looking at me and said train just got past us and it's taking speed, slowly. And I just grab my cello, and run.

I don't believe I've ever run that fast in my entire life. And I feel so stupid too. If that gesture, me running after a fucking train to catch him and tell him I love him, does not make him run away, then all the sap in the world is never going to be able to. If this works, Imma follow him to the end of the world.

My cello is so fucking heavy. He's never been this heavy. But that's a part of me I'm not giving up for anything in the world. Wherever I go, he goes.

I'm never going to make it. I start shouting at the top of my lungs, running as if my life depended on it. Well. It kind of does.

"MUSTANG !! Just so you know, I've never ever had anyone in my life or in my bed but you and a fucking moron I'd rather forget about and I don't wanna forget about you and I was so fucking afraid you wouldn't want me if I were to have feelings for you and I do have them."n Now that I've said the first words, everything flows out of me like a river, and it's not in my power to stop it. "I have so much of them I feel like I'm never gonna be able to forgive myself if I just let you go like that and I love you and I want you to know everything about me that I've kept away, I want to be able to talk to you about my research and I want to play the cello for you and I want you to be friends with my brother and Winry and to be friend with your friends and family if you want me to, and I don't care if after this you never want to talk to me or to see me ever again because that would just mean us wasn't possible and that I wasn't the one to prevent it from happening !" As I talk, Roy's eyes widden in a way that should be hilarious but just looks wonderful on him, as everything does, really. And I catch my breath, for a instant, and then I go back to pouring my heart. "I... I'm so sorry I lied to you but I want you to know I'm never anyone but myself, and I was myself with you, utterly and completely and if you wanna come back one day I'll..."

I have no time to finish my sentence, Roy grabs my arm and hauls me with surprising strength on the train. As I almost stumble on him, he wraps a firm arm around my waist and presses me against himself to make sure I don't fall over. Before I can gather myself to say anything, he interrupts me.

"Shut up, Ed. You talk to much."

And his lips are on mine and nothing matters aymore, not even the tears drying on my cheeks, or his arms, closing just a little to tight around me because I feel like nothing can happen to me. I close my arms around him in return, maybe a little to tight too, because I'm sort of afraid this is a dream and he's going to disappear on me if I let go. My cello is crushed against us by my left arm and we lose our balance for a while ; it's messy and perfect and I wonder why I ever thought I could keep on lying to him and then let go because I don't think I could carry on living without having this to look forward to every day of my life.

________________________________

I carefully put the folder on my personal drawer. I'm not going to open it ever again, or not for work anyway, it seems.

On Monday, August 24th of this year, the case of Roy Mustang and Edward Elric came up before the superior judge in Cannes. They are now happily married, serving a life sentence in New-York, state of New York, USA.

Yeah I know. What a lame, conventional ending. I'm so happy it almost hurts. I glance at Ed's door. They're both dropping by this evening to spend some time in Paris and I don't think I could be happier, really.

Well, maybe if I could get rid of Winry too. But I have the feeling this girl she was trying to impress with my customer's fur coat was, indeed, impressed.

**Author's Note:**

> So as you may or may not have remarked, I used entire, unchanged (or almost unchanged) quotes from the movie. If you want me to put them in bold so you can know what I didn't write by myself, I can. But honestly, they're really easy to find : they're the only readable parts of this thing. 
> 
> Thank you for reading and as I said before, don't hesitate to point out mistakes, unatural phrasing or other things that bothered you. 
> 
> That was actually my first posted fanfiction, and definitely the first I've written in english.
> 
> I've gained so much respect for writers. Even without having to come up with a plot and interesting characters, it still took me ages and I'm not even satisfied with myself.
> 
> I strongly recommand to watch the movie, it's really worth the time. Plus Audrey Hepburn is amazing. If you've seen it, you probably noticed I changed a lot of things, but not drastically, most of the time because I thought it suited the characters better. 
> 
> Whatever. I'm so glad this is out of my mind.
> 
> Also, if you wanna know what Fauré's elegy sounds like (which you should because Fauré is an amazing composer and don't even get me started on this particular piece), here is a link where you can listen to it (I assume people who really want to listen to it have already searched it on Youtube, which makes this pretty useless, but I'm kind of hoping it'll get people who didn't really care to listen to it too) : https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=V07Pct5cjcM


End file.
